


Entangled

by XScribe



Series: Off The Map [3]
Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bi-Gender Character(s), Character Study and more, Mpreg, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XScribe/pseuds/XScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Alternate Universe spin on the Fast and Furious series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: In rereading Entangled, I discovered some discrepancies and chose to re-edit it. So this is a revised version. You may want to reread it.
> 
> Also, I want to once again issue extra special thanks to Angel Walker. For inspiration and hope where there was none.

August

Baja was nothing like the California that Dom knew. No matter what it was called. It was pure heat like nothing he had ever known. Baking heat, like an oven set to broiler. He’d been born and raised in Los Angeles. He knew nothing about 24-hour heat like the radiant waves that pervaded Baja.

There it was, 3:00 in the morning or something and still sweltering hot. The kind of hot no one could sleep in. Not even the dogs he could hear barking down the road in the night, though they should have been used to it. It didn’t alleviate the temperature, even with the garage bay door open and all the lights out. The heat seemed to accentuate the smell of axel grease and motor oil, odors that were at least comforting in their familiarity.

Leaning on the sill under one of the high, open windows, Dom counted the wad of bills from his pocket again. Being as he spoke Spanish, he had no trouble making it clear that he only wanted American money. Nevertheless, every now and then someone would cram in some Mexican bills. Still, he’d made over $1100 after a few races that night. Not bad for Mexico, but nothing like he could make in LA.

With no place to stay, Dom had accepted the job at the backstreet garage temporarily. It was all just temporary. That was what his life had become, a series of ducking from one place to another. He was never even sure he’d actually get paid wherever he worked, but getting a roof over his head and running water for a few days, then maybe a full meal every now and then was worth it. He was on something like the fourth or fifth job he’d had since leaving LA--he’d lost count. He’d left his family, his friends, and his life with absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back, a fucked-up left shoulder, and the tricked-out Supra. And a hollow feeling he didn’t understand.

The Supra. He’d had to sell it at a loss. There was bound to be an APB on it. And he needed to pay for a motel room when he first got to Tia Juana, with nowhere to go. It was just as well that he got rid of the car--it reminded him too much of just one more chapter in his life he wanted to forget real bad.

Racing always gave him a hell of a rush. No matter what car he drove, he’d always climb out of it with a pulsing hard-on. After the Supra, he’d bought himself a 1970 Chevelle in fair enough condition. It was pretty much sheer primer when he found it, but the frame and body were good with only slight cosmetic damage. It had a cracked engine block, but he was lucky to find another one that was being parted out.

That night, the rush was no exception. On his way to the lavatory to clean up, Dom stripped off all his clothes, aimed one of the ancient shop fans to follow him, and snapped it on. He left the door ajar so the rotating blades would dry the water from his bare skin and cool him while he bathed himself on the cement floor with wet, soapy towels in front of the sink. Damn, gliding the cool towels over his hot body felt good.

At last, he backed onto the cot in the corner in nothing but one of the laundered towels. He was cooler, but his cock and testes were still throbbing. As he relived the night’s races in his mind’s eye, the glare of headlights bearing down in his review mirrors, his thoughts stole away. Like they always did. Stole back to the one of the best goddamn things that had ever happened to him. That astonishingly beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed punk who’d just walked into Toretto’s life and fucked it up bad. Brian-fucking-Spilner. But, Dom couldn’t help it. There was no denying the ache in his gonads and nothing had ever alleviated that ache like Spilner had. No, it wasn’t his real name, but Dom preferred to think of him by that name. Because that was the person Dom had met and gotten crazy, recklessly involved with. Never mind that he had been fighting himself not to think of Spilner at all unless it was to despise his lying, deceitful ass. Yeah, he’d given Toretto his freedom when he handed over the keys to the Supra. Evidently, it had cost the kid his job as a cop. Dom had heard and seen O'Conner’s name in the media as a fugitive. That was tough. He deserved it after the shit he’d done to Dom’s life. It could have been somebody else who’d come after Dom and tried to bust up his operation. Somebody he hadn’t found so goddamn attractive. But no, it had to be Spilner.

There were too many times when all Toretto could think of was how fucking beautiful that kid was. Everything about him. Even the little things, like how he laughed, sighed, breathed… How he rocked, bucked, panted, and cried out in the throes of their incredible sex. And then there was his smile…Dom had never known that just a simple smile could do all those things to him.

Thinking of Brian, Dom drew on his piston-hard, aching cock. Much as racing had always turned him on, nothing satisfied him like Spilner had. Mind tracing all the curves of those sweet, lean, hard muscles made Dom shudder, his cock lunging. He longed to be made love to by Brian, crushed in his hold by that amazing body, stroked by those long fingers, kissed by that alluring, pretty mouth…

God, why did he have to miss him so bad?

~~~

Thursday--August 17

If Rome could have been certain he was really going to be a father this time, there was nothing he would have wanted to do more than to take Brian out and go celebrate in New Orleans in style. But, the uncertainty weighed on him. Anyway, he could tell O'Conner didn’t seem to be in no celebratory mood even though he probably should have been. Then again, the first time they’d learned he was pregnant, neither of them were in a celebratory mood, either. They’d done enough partying earlier that day. Too much.

They ordered dinner up to the room. Rome wasn’t all that hungry and Brian didn’t seem like it, either, until the food showed up. Then, once again he was uncharacteristically ravenous. But, instead of getting a real drink, he ordered milk. Now it made sense that he was craving the stuff. As for Rome, he set up his SoHo bar glass by his plate and threw back the rest of his bourbon over dinner. He didn’t offer to share it again.

Mostly, Rome found himself watching Brian and not eating, almost waiting for him to make a mistake that would somehow be telling. Not that that was possible.

“You think we done it?” Rome finally asked. “All this time I been waitin’ fo’ this to happen.” He leaned forward over the table, pushing his plate aside. “You think that baby mine?”

“You gonna eat any more of that?” Brian’s gaze cut to the wrapped French bread in the basket.

Slowly, Rome reached over and passed the basket to his boy. “You go ahead and feed mah’ baby.”

Without pause or answer, Brian helped himself to another piece.

“Come on, Bry. You gotta tell me what you think.”

“Man, I don’t know.”

“You know how much I want dis.”

“Yeah.” Brian dropped his gaze to the table. “Right now, I really wish I could tell you for sure it’s yours. Right now, I really want that to be true.”

“You do?” Rome brightened.

“Well, yeah.” Brian looked up at Rome, big, beautiful blue eyes all serious. “You waited a long time. You understand now why we couldn’t do this before.”

“Yeah, I get it…” Rome nodded slightly. Then reached to Brian’s hand.

~~~

Dinner dishes in the hall, they spent the rest of the evening in bed. There wasn’t a damn thing insincere about the way Brian acted. When Rome pulled him down on the bed, Brian gladly slid right into place on top, lovingly mouthing and kissing. He didn’t have any scratchy beard stubble no more and didn’t complain about the taste of liquor on Rome’s tongue, though there were times in their past when Brian would. Like he used to do, Brian wrapped his long legs around Rome and undid the buttons on his sleeveless shirt. When Rome tugged on Brian’s cropped shirt, he gladly gave it up. Once more, Rome steered him within reach to suck on those tits. Damn, he couldn’t wait until Brian got full breasts like he used to have. It was real clear that it turned him on, too, by the way he welcomed Rome’s sucking. When they lay down together again, Brian’s hard-on tucked up against Rome and got pounded between them when they made love. And this time, there wasn’t any need to go fumbling around in the overnight for any condoms, either.

Even by midnight, it was so hot and steamy outside, the air conditioner continued to run, the drapes partially open. Still as Brian was, except for his deep, even breathing, he must have been asleep. He fell asleep so easy any more. Just like the first time he was pregnant, in retrospect. In the lamplight, Rome stroked his boy’s golden curls. There was no ignoring the awful realization what he had come so close to throwing away.

When they left high school behind, that was when they began to grow apart. It was O'Conner with his crazy ideas about becoming a pig on account of his dad. At first, Rome used to think he wasn’t serious. Maybe it had been right for his dad, but it just wasn’t like Brian. He’d learned how to pick locks, pick pockets, wage fights, lie, cheat, and steal with the best of them. And he was slick at it, too. He used to party along with his mom, Rome, and the rest of their gang. Brian Arielle with his long curls and hot, fly threads, used to be so cool. He’d wear mini-skirts, mini-dresses, with cute, tight, little tops and short jackets, and lace and fancy, seamed, thigh-high stockings with high heels. Damn, he was the finest-looking kid on campus. Course it was his mom who’d buy those clothes. Not Bry. Left to his own devices, it wasn’t surprising that t-shirts and jeans were all he’d think to wear.

But, he got serious. Too damn serious about becoming a cop. So serious he refused to give up his studies at Barstow Community College, get married, or get pregnant. Not unless Rome quit his lifestyle. That was the ultimatum. There was no question that if Brian had had them their baby, their lives would have been all different. He would have married Rome, they would have had a hell of a fun life together, and he wouldn’t have become no goddamn cop.

They didn’t even know Brian was pregnant when it happened. They should have been able to forgive themselves for not knowing, but Rome never could. He thought it over a million different ways in his head and never could. All he kept coming back to was wishing to God he’d known. If he’d only known, things would have been different. All the shit that happened that night never would have happened.

After the accident, it was a long while before they had sex again. Of course Brian was terrified about getting pregnant, though he wouldn’t say it in those words. Neither of them ever talked much about it. That was the best way to deal with it. Leave things be so they could be forgotten. Bad thing was, there wasn’t any forgetting something like that.

They’d fight about not having sex. Eventually, when he could, Brian got on the pill. He was real diligent about taking it and there was no getting past that. In the hope of getting Brian to quit studying to be a cop and get married, Rome tried hiding the damn things. All he got for that maneuver was no sex and a lot of fights.

Much as Rome wanted that baby to be his, he wasn’t gonna fool himself. He knew there was a good chance it wasn’t. He didn’t know what would happen or how he’d feel if it wasn’t. The disappointment could break his heart so bad, he’d have to leave O'Conner. After all that time of denying Rome, Bry had gone off and made a baby with somebody else. Some asshole who’d ditched him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Rome took in O'Conner’s scent again. Why’d he have to go and smell so good? Brought back so many memories. Maybe it’d be best if Brian didn’t have this one, then he and Rome could be sure and make themselves a baby…Oh, hell. It’d kill ‘em both to ever go through anything like that again. It always made Brian cry to talk about that accident that cost him his pregnancy. Truth was, it did Rome, too.

~~~

Friday–August 18

The novelty of New Orleans blown out, they got back on the road after breakfast the next morning. Rome had been pretty quiet once again while they ate and got ready to go, which was unsettling. It wasn’t like him. That meant he was either pissed or upset and either way, there was nothing Brian could do to reassure him. The very least Brian could do was dress to appease, so he shaved his legs and put on another of the new pairs of shorts, which were all above-the-knee, and a thin, short-sleeved shirt. Eyes lighting up, Rome expressed decided approval.

Even though Brian hadn’t even considered any kind of possibility that he may have been pregnant when he and Bilkins flew to Barstow, there was no blaming Rome; it had to take more than a hundred percent of his loyalty not to beat the shit out of Brian before thinking twice. Not that he could have succeeded. Had Rome gone ahead and left, it would have been hard for Brian to manage on his own. The prospects for being reinstated at the Department weren’t too exciting for an expectant employee; all he could hope for was a desk job until he got back from maternity leave.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

After over two hours of sitting in the windshield behind a pair of shades, Brian toyed with the stereo to keep himself awake. He was getting bored, tired, and drowsy again. And that was despite a couple of cups of coffee with breakfast. Sometimes, it felt like he was drugged. He swore he didn’t remember going through this the first time. Rome’s silence could well have meant he was thinking how slim the chances were that the baby was his. After all, Brian had already been developing physical changes by the time they’d started having sex again. Why should Pearce feel like talking? He had too many things to think about. Whether it was about the child they’d lost or his best goddamn friend stabbing him in the back by getting knocked up by somebody else, it was all bad.

God, if Brian let himself think about the former, he was going to cry. No! he wasn’t going to think about it.

With a sniff, Brian wiped away his trace of tears, trying not to smudge his eyeliner, and composed himself. So, what the hell was he going to do after he delivered? If the baby wasn’t Rome’s, he’d be so pissed, he change his mind about being business partners, let alone volunteer to help out in any way. To go back to work at all, Brian was going to need a sitter. That depended on the father. If it was Rome, that would be no problem. He seemed like he was really ready to play daddy, this time. And his mom, Vernetta, was the perfect candidate for whenever they needed a sitter. Like when they were street racing. Course, that meant either living in Barstow, or moving her somewhere better. No, she wouldn’t want to move, with all her years at Barstow Community Hospital, and he couldn’t really blame her for that. But, staying in and opening up a garage in Barstow—well, it wouldn’t be an ideal place to spend the rest of their lives and raise kids. So long as she worked day shifts, and not graveyard, like she used to, so someone would always be home to watch--What the hell was he thinking? Until something was done about Verone, it was pretty ridiculous to plan anything. That was months away.

Well, something was gonna be done about Verone, whether it was the law or Brian had to take the situation into his own hands again. Then after that, Vernetta was still the best candidate for a babysitter, no matter who the father was. She always had a soft spot for Brian, no matter what stupid, crazy thing he did, and he remembered doing plenty of them. Then again, if Rome wasn’t the father, he’d raise hell about having his mom play “grandmother” to somebody else’s kid. After that, the choices were very few; his mom or his aunt. That would mean moving back to and staying in Barstow for sure. At least Rome’s mom might consider living in Los Angeles, which was a hell of a lot better than Barstow. In fact, there were hospitals all over LA and the surrounding area. About the last person he’d want to ask would be his mom, anyways. He didn’t know how she’d react when she found out he was pregnant again and didn’t want to guess. And if he asked his aunt or his cousins, there’d be no keeping them from telling his mom, and she’d go postal for sure, starting with the fact that she’d had to find out about it third-hand.

The only other one was Mia Toretto. She might very well tell him to drop dead, but he didn’t think she would. That is, if he was making her an aunt. The Torettos set a lot of store in family, like most Italians. Along with that, she was smart, efficient, and caring, all of which made her another good candidate. If he needed her, that would mean for sure he’d go back to the police force. So, her classes could pose a problem, but he could arrange his work schedule for the p.m. or night shift and not clash with hers. Ultimately, he knew that despite how much she hated him at the moment, the chances were high she’d eventually be willing to help take care of her brother’s child.

~~~

Driving through Texas was nothing but long stretches of hot, flat desert, and wavering mirages on the baking roadway ahead. The only difference between Texas and the Mojave Desert, Rome thought, were the mountains; Texas didn’t have any.

Always a little OCD about certain things, O'Conner had mapped out the trip to stop between Beaumont and Houston, Texas to refuel where they’d have lunch, too. It seemed to be taking a long damn, boring time for lunchtime to come around, which they meant to take at around 2:00 pm. Not long before they hit Beaumont, though, Rome noticed the Skyline appeared to be weaving some. The second time it happened, the car actually started to veer into the next lane. Rome picked up his walkie. “Brian.”

Through the rear window, he saw Brian fumble for the walkie in the left-hand passenger seat. “Huh, what?”

“Brian, what the fuck you doin’?”

There was a pause. Then, the walkie crackled. “Nothin’.”

“You fallin’ asleep.”

“No, I’m not, I’m bored.”

“We almos’ in Beaumont. You wanna stop a’ready?”

There was another pause, then the walkie cut in again. “Nah. I wanna make it to Beaumont. Maybe if you’d talk to me or something, I’d stay awake.”

Rome considered. “The way you been droppin’ off, maybe this road trip ain’ such a good idea.”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s just make it to Beaumont, and I’ll get an Espresso or something. I gotta take a piss, anyways.”

“Cou’se you do. Tha’s what I mean about this not bein’ a good idea. An’ ah’ you shu’ you wanna drink no Espresso? Ain’ that bad when you expectin’?”

“Just a cup a coffee or a Coke, then.”

Though Brian couldn’t see it, Rome shrugged. “I don’ know; i’ss yo’ kid; however, if it was my kid, I don’t think I’d let you drink all that caffeine.”

This time Rome saw Brian cast an impatient glance back over his shoulder. Then address the walkie again. “Either that, or I fall asleep and crash. Which would you prefer?”

“I said if it was my kid.”

“You don’t know that it ain't.”

“Ah’ you tellin’ me it is?”

“I’m tellin’ you that I’d rather not fall asleep and crash. So, will you at least talk to me until we get to Beaumont?”

“You expect you gonna poison my baby when we get to Beaumont?”

“Gimme a fuckin’ break, Pearce. What the fuck do you want me to do?”

“A’ight, I’ll talk to you. If that’s mah’ baby. Otherwise, I don’t give a fuck how much you poison ‘im. What ‘chyou wanna talk about? Why don’ you tell me about that boyfriend a yo’s?”

Another pause. “Why do you want to talk about him? It’d only piss you off.”

“All I know about him is that you was supposed to bust him, an’ you let him go. If he meant that much to you, I wanna know about him.”

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about this over the walkies. A police scanner, CB radio, or somebody might be able to pick us up and it’s none of their business.”

“Somebody like who?”

“I don't know. Let’s just be careful, that’s all.”

~~~

Once they hit Beaumont and found a restaurant along the interstate, Rome picked up his interrogation. He’d deliberately chosen a booth for privacy while O'Conner raced to the restroom. Upon his return, Rome was once again reminded with divine admiration how pretty Brian was in makeup, and as an added bonus, in those upper thigh-high shorts, showing off those long legs of his. Damn, Rome sucked in a breath. That boy sure was hot.

When the waitress poured O'Conner his requested large cup of coffee, Rome regarded it, but said nothing. It was better Brian didn’t fall asleep. Especially on the chance that Rome was the daddy.

“So,” Rome went on once he’d decided what to order and set his menu down. “Tell me about chyo’ boy.”

Obviously fidgeting, Brian ripped open a packet of sugar and stirred it into his coffee. “I told you before I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I know you did. But, that was befo’ I knowed what all went on between you. I barely let that answer fly then, but I shu’ ain’ gonna let it stand now.”

“Look, he’s gone now. So, does it really matter?”

“I wanna know what he was like. What kind a person he was. If it turn out this his kid and we gonna stay homeys, I got a right to know what to expec’ the kid gonna be like. He’s some kind a wanted, hard-ass criminal. What all he do?”

“Man, didn’t you hear enough about it on the news?”

The waitress came back before Rome could answer. Other than his ice tea, he waved her away. He’d lost whatever appetite he’d had.

“Wait.” O'Conner stopped the waitress. “You’re not eating now?” he asked Rome.

“I ain't hongry,” Rome allowed.

“You’ve only been eating everything in sight up until now. We’re not stopping again 'til 8:00 tonight, you know.”

“I doubt that,” Rome scoffed, looking away.

“You can have some of mine. And we’ll order you something to go.” Brian motioned at the waitress.

Once she was safely out of earshot, Rome continued, with some biting sarcasm. “I was too busy gettin’ outta lockup to watch TV.”

That time O'Conner looked away, keeping his head down, not looking Rome in the eye. “Grand larceny. That’s all. No worse than anything you or me ever did.”

“Grand larceny? That can’t be it. Not the way them dudes Markham and Bilkins was talkin’ on him.”

“Well, there were a few other charges thrown in. Like reckless driving and assault. But, that wasn’t him that assaulted anyone; that was one of his team. Markham and Bilkins didn’t know that shit. And it never went to trial, so none of those details ever came out. They just pretty much assumed he did all of it.”

“What was his name?”

Brian mumbled something into his coffee.

“What the dude’s name?” Rome pressed.

“Toretto. Dominic Toretto.”

“That sound I-talian. He I-talian?”

“Yeah, what do you think?”

“He in the mafia o’ som'm?”

“That’s a stupid thing to say. No, nothin’ like that.”

Rome drummed his fingers on the table. “You shu’? His folks ain’ gonna come afta’ you fo’ his kid, ah’ they?”

Whatever patience Brian had seemed to be dwindling. “I already told you, he’s not in no mafia. And he sure as hell doesn’t know about me, so how are his folks gonna know?”

“Them mafia got ways to know eva’thing,” Rome pointed out.

“If his family were mafia, the police would damn well know. It’s the nature of police work to crawl up the ass of every single suspect and their family.”

“He good-lookin’?”

Coffee shot out of the cup when Brian slammed it on the table. “Why do you ask me a thing like that?”

Shaking the hot drops off his hand, Rome reached for a napkin from the dispenser on the table and matter-of-factly questioned, “Why you think?” Then gave Brian a pointed look.

Because they’d caught some attention from the customers sitting nearby, Brian pretended to calmly mop up the small mess with more napkins from the dispenser. When he spoke again, he moderated his voice to make it seem like the scenario had merely been an accident and not from hormones and stress. “I already told you to forget about him. It’s all past-tense, so none of it means a thing.”

For the time being, Rome dropped the subject. When the waitress returned, she set lunch out along with a plate of fluffy biscuits that Brian hadn’t ordered. “There’s a little something extra. Sorry about your coffee.” She poured him some more.

It was just like O'Conner, always getting gratuities wherever he went. It was a positive asset to have access to. Rome knew why, even though Brian remained clueless. And there had never been any reason not to take advantage of it even though sometimes it pissed Rome off. He helped himself to a biscuit and Brian passed him a pat of butter to go with it without a word.

The biscuit was so good, it goaded Rome’s appetite. And watching O'Conner tear the end tails off the Gulf shrimp without reserve meant it had to be damn delicious, since he was usually pretty finicky about his food. “Them shrimp that good…?” Rome gestured.

Brian turned his plate to invite Rome to take all he wanted, and put the stainless steel ramekin of garlic butter on the table between them.

By the time they left, Rome hadn’t raised the subject again. He ducked into the restroom before the next leg of the trip rather than at the gas station where he’d probably have to ask for a key that turned out to be tethered to a tractor. When he got outside, he didn’t see O'Conner anywhere. Not even by their waiting cars. “Whe’ the fuck…?” Rome muttered. He headed back to the restaurant, figuring Brian must have gone to order something to go after all.

Before Rome could grab the door handle, he heard that familiar whistle Brian was so adept at, though he’d never been able to master it that well, himself. Turning, Rome saw Brian in his shades, strolling from a mini-mart next door. Once again, Rome was treated to the alluring sight of those great legs, subtly muscled arms, and that dazzling head of bushy, golden curls. He was carrying a six-pack of Coke bottles in one hand and bottled water in the other. No, he didn’t need no fingers to whistle.

While Rome helped divvy up the bottles for each of them and load them into the cars, he went back to muttering. “See, dis what I’m talkin’ about.”

“What?” Brian said absently.

“The reason you so upset about this Toretto guy. That tell me right there you still got it on fo’ him.”

In the doorway of the Skyline, Brian straightened up. “Look, no matter how I felt about him, it’s over; he’s gone. I told you I didn’t want to talk about this, so neither should you. Stop thinking about him, all right?”

Taking his half of the drinks, Rome headed for the Challenger, muttering to himself.

~~~

Back on the road, Rome took the lead for a while, being as O'Conner had that large cup of coffee and his four bottles of Coke to keep him awake and wired for a while. Still, Rome kept a lookout in his rearview to make sure that familiar silver front end of the Skyline was always in sight and his walkie in reach on the seat beside him. Damn, it was hard to locate any decent R&B music on the airwaves in Texas. He was fighting with the scan mode on the tuner when the passenger of a dark blue Yukon driving in the next lane gestured at him to lower the window.

“What the fuck..?” Rome muttered. Turning down the volume of the stereo, he went ahead and lowered his window.

“’Scuse me.” The guy looked to be Latino and in his 30s--certainly old enough to know how to read a map. “’Scuse me...” The rest of his words were lost to engine and road noise.

“Look, I’m just cuttin’ th’oo Texas,” Rome shouted back. “I ain’t from aroun’ he’.”

Not having heard or understood, the dude looked confused, then gestured that they pull over.

Fuck that. “I said,” Rome repeated, “I don’t know--” With the next glance over, he found an AK-47 leveled at him through the open window. “Oh, shit!” Gearing down, he hit the throttle. The Challenger responded with a lunge, leaving the Yukon behind.

Remembering Brian and a screech of peeling rubber made Rome look back. A wake of blue smoke trailing, the Skyline had raced up where it clipped the right rear fender of the Yukon. Unable to watch, Rome heard tires screaming behind him as they slid over tarmac. A glance at the rearview showed the Yukon struggling for control. Rome eased off on the gas so not to lose pace. There was another metal on metal thud, then he heard the Yukon completely lose it.

Even though he knew O'Conner was cop-trained to relatively safely take out a fleeing vehicle, the risk of the maneuver wasn’t lost on Rome. Pulling towards the shoulder to flip a u-ey, in the rearview, he realized another SUV had been tailing the Skyline. Someone leaned out of its passenger side window aiming another AK-47 at it.

Fuck!

The dark blue Yukon sat grounded in the sand across the highway, facing east. In the meantime, the Skyline bore westward, a dark gray Bravada in pursuit. Regretting his gun was packed away in the trunk, despite his own risk and everything else, knowing O'Conner was in trouble invoked the one and only gut-reaction it ever did in Rome: feral defense.

At his decelerated speed, they quickly passed the Challenger. Rome shot into the lane of the SUV and rammed its right rear fender. It reeled but didn’t lose control, giving the gun-wielding passenger time to take aim at Rome.

“Shit!” Rome fell back and ducked behind the SUV; that got the Skyline was out of harm’s way, but not himself. The rear window of the Bravada shattered with bullets meant for him. He cut sharply to the right, saving him from the trajectory, but the sudden move at that speed nearly sent him onto the sandy shoulder. Having grown up handling the same kind of terrain at high speeds paid off. The sudden loss of velocity did, too.

There was another screech of tires a ways off, and Rome looked up to see the Skyline race across the eastbound lanes, skirt some light traffic, then tear straight towards a head-on with the westbound Bravada.

Right then, Rome wished O'Conner wasn’t so damn good at playing chicken; no amount of prowess at it was gonna beat a stare-down with an AK-47.

Gunning the HEMI, Rome burned his own rubber to catch up, intending to run interference again. Before he could get there, there was gunfire and the Bravada lost control. It veered into the median in a full tailspin.

Soon as he could, Rome pulled over on the center median to look for his boy. The Skyline was executing a safe u-ey to make its way west again. Rome seized his walkie. “Brian! Brian, come in! You okay?”

It was a few moments before there was an answer, but the Skyline was driving smooth as ever. It was only as it neared that Rome saw bullet holes in the windshield. The walkie crackled. “I’ll be right there.”

Passing both wrecked vehicles, Brian pulled up right behind the Challenger. Rome scrambled to the right-hand driver’s door to check on Brian. “Man, you okay?”

The cool, loose-fitting, rayon shirt Brian wore was now slightly damp over his breastbone from mild perspiration, showing off his slight, but evident, heaving breasts. He was rattled and a little out of breath. His left hand rested on the passenger seat that was littered with glittering bits of broken glass, between the walkie and his silver SIG P. His shades had apparently been knocked off, but otherwise he seemed intact. “Yeah. You okay?”

“Me?” Rome was alarmed. “I only bounced off the rear fende’ a that Bravada; they shot at you th’oo yo’ windshield.”

Taking his gun, Brian got out of the car. “No, I did that.” He looked back over the highway they’d just left behind. “I took ‘em both out.”

The driver that got clipped when the Bravada lost control a short ways back was standing on the right shoulder, checking the damage to his car. Rome squinted out at the passing motorists, looking for the Yukon. “They was sent by Verone, wasn’t they? How the hell they manage to find us all the way out in the middle a Texas?”

“I don’t know…But, we gotta do something about this shit.”

“I say them assholes show up again, we be ready fo’ ‘em and show Verone who he messin’ wit’.” Rome started for the trunk of his ride.

Brian followed him. “You know when Verone gets word these guys failed, he’ll just hire more crew.”

That slowed Rome. Keys in the lock, he made another scan for the Yukon. “You think so?”

As if sensing the wind, O'Conner searched around, too, squinting. “I’m gonna call it in.”

“Why now? We can take care a ourse’ves.”

“If I don’t, I’m gonna wind up a fugitive again, and so will you. There are bodies and at least one witness who won't have any trouble describing an orange, black-striped, 1970 Dodge Challenger or a blue-on-silver Nissan Skyline. It won't look like self-defense, when the cops catch up with us; they’ll bust us first and ask questions later. The way I see it, getting the support of the law will give us our best chance to stay alive.” Brian headed back for the Skyline.

Hastily, Rome hoisted the duffel out of the trunk where his piece was packed. Then went after Brian.

He was carefully sweeping the shards of glass off the passenger seat to get into the console of his car.

“Wait,” Rome intervened. “Long as you callin’ it in, tell ‘em to send the paramedics.”

“What?” Alarming, Brian backed out of the car to check Rome all over. “Where’re you hurt?”

“No, not fo’ me; fo’ you.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” Brian stepped back.

In spite of Brian’s infidelity, Rome was too apprehensive to ignore the emergency. “Fine like you was the last time you was in a car wreck an’ you was expectin’?”

Looking mildly stunned, without a word, Brian slowly lowered himself into the passenger seat. It took him a moment, then he finally drew his cell phone from the console. “I’m not gonna waste time goin’ to no ER.”

One hand on the roof, the other on the window glass, Rome leaned down. “Man, afta’ what you just done out theh’ fo’ my ass, even if that ain't mah’ baby, I ain’t about to let you go th’oo this again.”

At length, Brian dialed 911. “Listen, I’m a temporarily out-of-commission police officer and I need to report a shooting…”

~~~

A few hours later, they were at the police department in Gonzales, Texas, giving statements and waiting for word from the LAPD, Miami PD, and the FBI. It was easy to locate the spot where the Yukon had wiped out on the side of the highway, but the truck was gone. The patrolmen took Brian’s gun for evidence in the shooting, until they verified his legal, registered ownership. At the Gonzales station, the staff were able to ID the gunmen in the Olds Bravada, and discovered they were actually from Buenos Aires. One of them had an arrest record in Florida. Even so, there was nothing to connect them to Verone in any way.

After less than a year-and-a-half on the job with the Barstow PD, Brian had become bored with the lack of challenge in the rural community he’d grown up in, and transferred to LA. Work was a lot more interesting there. This incident hadn’t been about exciting, though; it had terrified him.

They’d been left to wait on a hard wooden bench in the sheriff’s station, while their background stories were checked out. Pearce was fairly maintaining his cool, indifferent exterior like he always did with authority. Brian, however, for the first time since he was a kid, was genuinely scared. Seeing that AK-47 pointed at Rome had been bad enough. Compounding that had been the deep-seated, gut-wrenching horror that had hit Brian of a whole new danger; that of the threat to the life inside him.

What few lingering doubts he may have had about his condition had really been blown completely away, despite what he’d told Pearce. Once Brian was no longer in the grip of an adrenalin fugue, he could feel that the seatbelt had done a good job of reminding him of his developing breasts. Fighting back a wave of nausea, he carefully leaned forwards and propped his elbows on his bare, open knees. He put his head down, hopefully helping to hide that he shut his eyes.

Sliding closer beside him on the bench, Rome whispered, “You don’t look so good; don’t you think i’ss abou’ time you tol’ ‘em you need to go to the E-Ah?”

Brian steeled himself before responding, likewise whispering. “I’m just feeling a little nauseated, that’s all.”

“Nauseated, hah? I don’t like the sound a that. You ain't been nauseated befo’.”

“I just didn’t say anything before.”

“You mean you been goin’ aroun’ feelin’ sick…?” Rome fell silent, giving Brian a chance to concentrate on controlling the upheaval going on in his stomach instead of how to avoid a subject he really didn’t want to discuss.

“I don’t need no doctor,” Brian quickly rebuffed.

“They say any expectant mom in a ca’ wreck need to be checked out. I’ss gotta be even worse fo’ someone who been th’oo what you been th’oo afta’ a car wreck. I’m gettin’ you to an E-Ah right now.” Rome started to get up.

“Wait.” Realizing they had no real medically reliable proof, Brian caught Rome’s forearm. “We don’t even know for sure. It was only a drug store test.”

“Then when they check you out right now, they can give you a tes’ at the E-Ah.”

“Look, if I’m not, then I don’t need to go to no ER. I don’t want to make a big production over what could turn out to be nothin’. Just forget about it, man.”

“Fo’get about it hell. I ain't goin’ th’oo dis again.” Breaking from Brian’s hold, Rome went to the counter. “Hey,” he called at the staff. “We pretty shu’ my boyfriend gonna have a baby; he need to see a docto’.”

There was no arguing Rome’s blunt disclosure.

~~~

To Brian’s further discomposure, the sheriff had an officer escort them to the nearest ER. That kind of attention Brian really didn’t want, even though it bought him the privilege of an immediate bed there. The ER staff assumed Rome was the prospective father. He wasn’t that surprised when Rome played right along with the conjecture.

While Brian wondered if it was a mistake or a blessing to allow Rome to beholden himself to the situation, the nurse started asking all the annoying routine questions. Other than for the nausea and the growing panic he was fighting to control, he could honestly deny most of the symptoms she put to him.

Impatient as always, Pearce moved to speed up the exam process. “He nearly th’owed up in the ca’ half a dozen times just drivin’ ove’ he’.”

“Nauseated, hah?” the nurse observed in her Southern drawl. “Any pain or tenderness?”

“No,” Brian shook his head.

“When did the nausea start?” she continued to question.

He thought. He didn’t know what the clock had read. He just knew that the unprecedented new fear that gripped him had invoked it. “I don’t know…” It was a lame answer, but all he had.

Not Pearce, though. He proceeded to tell the nurse about the incident on the highway. Much as Brian felt that that was far too much information to give the ER nurse, he knew it would take more effort than he could muster to try and get Pearce to shut up.

“How far along ah’ you?” she wanted to know.

He exhaled. “Man, I don’t even know if I am.”

“When was your last period?”

Rome didn’t hesitate to tell her. “May.”

“Any pain in your back or lower abdomen?” the nurse’s inquiries continued.

“No. I’m fine.”

Finally, she quit, though she kept writing her notes. “The doctor’s gonna want a urine sample and to examine you. I’ll see what we all can do about the nausea.”

That was why Brian hadn’t wanted to come. “Can’t I just do the urine test and get something for the nausea? I don’t want to be examined right now.”

“I’m sorry, but the doctor’s gonna have to examine you.” Before leaving, she took a paper gown out from the cabinet under the examining table, as well as a paper drape. “When you get back from the bathroom, take everything off--”

“Everything?” he blanched.

She was already nodding. “Yeah, everything. Put the gown on to open in front. I’ll fetch you a cup.” Then she looked at Pearce. “Ya’ll wanna help him get undressed?”

Without hesitation, he came forward to do so.

The moment the nurse was gone, Brian was suddenly thankful for Rome’s presence. Brian realized that had he been alone, he might have elected to vacate the premises instead. “I don’t really want to do this,” he told Rome who was unbuttoning his shirt for him.

“What chyou mean? You wanna make sure you and the baby a’ight, don’t chyou?” Ignoring Brian, Rome went about opening his shirt.

“I don't know, man.” Brian caught Rome’s hands when he reached for the waistband of the shorts. He looked Rome in the eyes. “I’m scared.”

Rome hesitated then. He studied Brian’s eyes in turn. “Yeah. So’m I. Tha’s why they gotta do this. This time I’m ‘onna stay wit’ chyou and make shu’ nothin’ goes wrong.”

Soon after Brian was back up on the examining table wrapped in only the paper gown with Rome’s help, the nurse returned. She had brought an injection tray. “This should take care of the nausea,” she promised. “And don’t you worry, it’s safe for the baby.”

Still apprehensive, Brian eyed the disposable syringe. “We don’t even know for sure there’s a ‘baby.’”

Rome fielded the comment. “I say you shown about a million reasons to believe you pregnant.”

Brian’s fear jumped at least a couple of notches.

Cheerfully, the nurse ripped open an alcohol wipe. “I guess we all’ll find out soon as we get that specimen.” Then she jabbed him with the needle.

After leaving the cup exactly where the nurse specified, Brian returned to his ER bay where Rome helped him back up on the table. They both covered his lap with the drape in the less than private ER department where other patients were being equally tortured. “This is the other reason why I didn’t wanna come here,” Brian complained. “They’re probably gonna wanna do a pelvic, and I don’t want one.”

Pulling the chair close to the table, Rome sat down in it and took Brian’s hand. “I know, baby, but this impo’tant.” He put his head down, studying Brian’s fingers. “All I keep thinkin’ is how bad I wish I was wit’ chyou the firs’ time you went th’oo dis…”

Brian was quiet a moment “But, this isn’t like that. You know that wreck was a lot worse. I flipped that ‘Vette. I was knocked out. Busted the fuck outta my arm. This is nothing like that.”

“So? You was goin’ fast--maybe fast as we was drivin’ that night in Ba’stow. I seen bruises on yo’ chest and belly right now.” Over the gown, Rome gently touched Brian’s chest where he was especially tender from the seatbelt. “You hit that SUV hard. It’s best we make shu’.”

~~~

For some reason, the ER doctor didn’t make any assumptions about Rome. Straight out she asked Brian if it was okay if Rome stayed through the exam. In need of the moral support, Brian nodded quickly.

In the extent of his life, Brian had only had one gynecologist. He was a trusted friend of the family. Other than for the required physicals for the LAPD, he’d not seen another doctor who’d done any more than minor on-the-job wound treatments since he left Barstow. So, some of Brian’s apprehension lay in having such an intimate exam performed by a stranger. Though the sherm respected his privacy about it, she inspected him about as much as most of the other doctors in Barstow usually did. Eventually, as expected, she had him put his knees up so she could insert her K-Y jellied fingers up him, her other hand on his lower abdomen. The poking and pressing she did both inside and out hurt a little more than he anticipated. Fortunately, the discomfort was very short-lived, lasting only as long as she prodded. And like all doctors, she asked him all the same damn questions the nurse already had. Finding himself quickly growing drowsy and irritable, he may have gone off on her had Rome not been there supplying some of the answers.

Once she’d repeated all the questions, she somehow thought up more to ask over the course of the exam. “Have you ever been pregnant before?”

Shit. Never willing to talk about it with anyone, he closed his eyes.

He heard Rome answer. “Yeah.”

“How many times?”

Eyes still shut, Brian was actually glad to field that query in Rome’s company. “Once. Just once.”

“When was that?” the doctor asked.

“A long time ago,” Brian replied evasively. It felt like it, anyway. He heard Rome supply the information truthfully.

“You’ve got some seatbelt bruising,” The doctor observed while she continued her exam, once again nearly pressing hard enough to prompt him to knock her hands away. “Did you have any problems with that pregnancy?”

Knowing it was difficult for both of them, Brian tersely replied, “Man, I don’t want to talk about it.”

The doctor tried. “It’s important that I know--”

“I lost it, all right!” Brian started to get up on his elbows and found he was dizzy and groggier than he realized. He also felt a painful pinch from the hardware in his left arm and gasped, quickly leaning on the right, instead. “Hey, just let me out of here.” He grabbed the paper gown closed in front. “Where the fuck are my clothes? Rome. Gimme my clothes.”

Condescending like most doctors, she pressed him back on the table. “Calm down, Brian. I’ve got good news. You should be happy to hear then that you are pregnant again.” Apparently figuring that Rome had to be the father or Brian wouldn’t have had him stay, she looked to Pearce. “Congratulations.” Then back to Brian. “Now, we’re going to set you up at the obstetric clinic affiliated with this hospital to start your regular monthly--”

“Hell no!” He pulled away from her towards the head of the table. “I’m not going to no damn place around here. I don’t even live here. I just wanna go.” This time he managed to sit up and get his legs off the edge of the table, heedlessly tearing paper and not giving a damn whether his lap was covered or not.

“Now, Brian,” the doctor tried to placate him. “You’re going to have to be observed for a while. You were just involved in an automobile accident so it’s important--”

“This is stupid.” This time Brian looked to Rome. “Get me my clothes.”

“Chill, Brian.” Rome caught Brian’s arm before he fell off the table.

“Mrs. O'Conner,” the doctor stressed. “I’m going to be upfront with you. You need to stay here for observation. You don’t seem to be having any contractions right now, but that could change. Because you’ve had one miscarriage, that puts you at a greater risk of having another.”

That scared the hell out of him. As he studied her, he realized she was right. He couldn’t help it, and he didn’t understand why he couldn’t help it, but he started to cry. Quickly, he wiped at his eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “As long as you stay here we can take good care of you. Just rest here for a while until we can get you into an observation bed.” Then she drew Rome aside and talked quietly to him, but Brian still heard their conversation. “Should Mrs. O'Conner have pain or discomfort of any kind, let any one of the staff know right away. Especially if it’s abdominal or back pain.”

“Got it,” Rome murmured quietly.

~~~

Whatever they’d given Brian, it seemed to have cured his nausea, but it made him real sleepy and drunk-like. Enough so that Rome stayed close and had to help him into a hospital gown. Now that the doctor had mentioned it, Rome could see then how Brian’s ordinarily completely flat belly stuck out a little. When she said they’d have to wait “a while” for observation, she wasn’t specific for how long.

Thinking back, Rome couldn’t remember how long Brian had been observed the last time this had happened. Rome did get a chance to see Brian just once that same night, but then he’d stayed in the Barstow hospital overnight, while Rome was discharged from the ER to be booked at the police station. The next day, after his mom had got him out of holding, he went to visit Brian in his hospital room. He was beat up from the crash with cuts from broken glass on his face and chest, his left arm was in a sling ‘cos they said they were still waiting to do surgery, and he looked tired. Real tired. So much so, he had dark circles under his eyes when Rome saw him again, surprising him. He’d never seen Brian like that. He should have been better by then. Except for his arm, everybody said he was okay. Only things didn’t work out that way.

In that backwoods ER in Texas, Rome studied Brian as he slept. Angelic and beautiful, like always. He didn’t appear the way he had in Barstow back then. Though he was frowning a little, he didn’t have that pained, drawn look about him. Rome never forgot his mom’s explanation that the wreck had caused Brian to start having irregular contractions and they never stopped. They’d put him on medication, and even though he’d said he didn’t hurt, they never really stopped. That was just like Bry. He never complained. Maybe that was why he’d looked so tired, from holding back the truth.

As a couple of hours passed and then three, Rome thought. Thought how O'Conner was so crazy, he’d risked himself and the baby just for Rome and didn’t hesitate for one second to do it. Thought how O'Conner had police training that taught him to put his own safety on the line with the aim to serve and protect, only he’d always been like that with Pearce. Always, since way before, while they were still kids. Whenever Rome had been in trouble, O'Conner always stuck up for him and had his back, just like he said. Way before all the police training. Thought how fucked up Brian would be if he lost that baby, too. He’d never been the same since the first time; he’d be that much more messed up if it happened again. And what if he’d never be able to have any more kids after that?

That was one hell of a goddamn scary thought that wasn’t lost on Pearce. He picked up Brian’s hand and weaved their fingers together. Those long fingers. If Rome was gonna figure back in O'Conner’s life--if he wanted to figure back in his life--they had to keep that baby and difficult as it was gonna be to accept someone else’s kid if it didn’t belong to Rome, he was gonna have to and raise him like he was his own. Then they could have a lot more babies that were his, and Brian was gonna have to be taken care of so he’d never suffer any more problems again.

With Verone sending his people after them, how could that possibly be guaranteed? Rome leaned on the bedrail, still holding Brian’s hand. They were just gonna have to figure things out together.

~~~

Every now and then, a nurse or the doctor came by to check O'Conner there in the observation room. They’d wake him up, ask how he was, and that was all, until Rome finally told them about his boy’s tendency to downplay symptoms. Rome exaggerated a little to get his point across, but he didn’t have to that much. So, the doctor did another exam. She was real careful about it, too.

It was night by the time they discharged Brian. About an hour before they’d let him go, he’d woken up starving, so they brought him a tray of food. Rome hadn’t been too hungry, for worrying about his boy. The doctor also gave Brian a prescription to pick up some anti-nausea medication before they left, and warned him about staying hydrated and going straight to an emergency room if he had any back pain, abdominal pain, or anything that felt like cramps. And to get pelvic rest for the next few days. Which all meant for him to take it real easy in bed for those days with no running around, going up or down stairs, lifting, or having any sex. The worst thing she could possibly warn against.

The doctor, of course, didn’t know Brian for shit. Soon as he got up out of the wheelchair to get into the Challenger that they’d come to the hospital in, he buttoned the waistband of his shorts, which had been deliberately left undone, and got into the passenger seat, where he hitched on his seatbelt. Then he took out his cell and said he was calling the police station for the latest info.

Rome threw his hands up. “Come on, Bry. You supposed to be takin’ it easy. Fo’get about the police right--”

Brian held up two fingers to halt Rome, then continued to dial. “Let’s go get the Skyline, then we can get back on the highway.”

“Only place we goin’ is to a hotel and spend the night.”

“Spend the night?” That made Brian shut off his phone. “Damn, my battery’s dying.” He started rooting around at the dash in the dark to find the cigarette lighter adaptor to charge the phone. “It’s early. We can get a few more miles in before we--”

“No, Brian.” Rome hovered in the doorway of the car. “We goin’ straight to a hotel. Now. You heard what the docto’ said. Ain' like this the firs’ time you been th’oo this.”

That not only halted Brian, it shut him up.

In Brian’s silence, Rome shut the door for him, then went around to the driver’s side. When he got in and started the throaty engine, his passenger was still silent. Until Rome drove quietly out of the parking lot, onto the rustic, narrow road that wrapped around the hospital to get back to the highway that would take them to the police department.

Once Brian found what he was looking for, he connected his cell phone to the charger, then finally spoke again. “I’m just thinkin’ it might be safer for us to travel at night, now that we know these guys came after us all the way out here.”

“Then maybe we ought a stay in town ‘til tomorrow night. We gotta get yo’ prescription filled befo’ we leave. I’m too ti’ed to get back on the road again tonight and i’ss too soon to let you go drivin’ aroun’, anyway, when you need to be restin’ up. Docto’ said a few days and I’m inclined to agree wit’ huh.”

~~~

Once again at the police station, Rome had to argue with Brian to stay put in the Challenger. When Rome got into the station, there was a whole new staff shift change, so he had to explain why he was there and they had to go through the paperwork and he had to dig out his I.D. Eventually, Brian got impatient and came in, of course, but he got things taken care of quicker. Not only was he white, he told them was one of them, so they all spoke the same language. Didn’t make it any smarter that he was up and walking around when the doctor had warned against it, though. The only thing Rome could do to stop him was to try and make sure he sat down once or twice, but that didn’t last long.

With the keys to the Skyline, they finally left the station. They’d not learned anything new except that Verone hadn’t been picked up again yet. At least the police were helpful in recommending one of the better hotels close by for them to stay at and the best places to eat. Pigs were always good with information like that. They even told Rome where to go to get the prescription filled and how to get there. He’d go in the morning; it was too soon to leave Brian alone.

At the hotel, somehow Rome managed to talk Brian into doing as little as possible and wait in the Skyline until Rome got them a room. He had a hard time deciding whether to get them a single Queen-size bed or two doubles. Best not tempt himself with one bed. Then he carried in all the luggage by himself, refusing to let O'Conner help.

“This ain't really like the last time,” Brian finally pointed out when they were in the elevator to the top floor of the moderate-rate hotel. Though it was probably equivalent to one of the better hotels in Barstow, Rome had been getting acquiring a taste for a little more opulence since being spoiled by Miami and their newly-acquired wealth. It sounded as though Brian had been doing some long and hard thinking. “Like I said, that wreck was a lot worse.”

“Them pigs thought it bad enough to take you to the E-Ah and that docto’ seemed to think it bad enough to keep you in theh’ all day, then give you all them instructions. What chyou think? You know mo’ than a damn docto’?”

“All I’m sayin’ is…” Whatever Brian was saying, at least for the time being he didn’t pursue it.

As soon as he saw the layout of the room with the two beds, though, he found a different argument to pursue, while Rome dumped their luggage in the closet area.

“Why’d you get us two beds?” Brian wanted to know.

“You heard the docto’.” Rome said. He thought better and set Brian’s overnight on the desk across from the beds. “We ain't supposed ta sleep togetha’.”

“She said not to have sex; she didn’t say not to share a bed. You don’t think we can sleep in the same bed no more?” He regarded the two beds. “You think I’m that fragile?”

“Think I’m ‘onna be able to keep my hands off you?” Rome posed.

“I’m not worried about it.” Brian came to Rome and kissed his cheek. After all the hours that had passed, his face still felt nice and smooth. “I guess we don’t gotta use the other bed.”

Catching Brian’s waist, Rome kissed him back directly on the lips. “Don’ start som'm we can’t finish…”

~~~

Before Rome got in the shower, he made sure O'Conner was on the bed without his Converse sneakers and settled back against the headboard with the TV. Deliberately, Rome left the bathroom door open and insisted he be apprised of any changes in Brian’s condition, even though he knew the chances that he’d actually be told were extremely low.

As Rome showered, it felt damn good to get the road dust and sweat off him. Dressing and undressing Brian there in the ER, in spite of the circumstances, sure kept prompting responses from Rome’s libido. He couldn’t help it. The sight of O'Conner’s body…Fuck it. Rome didn’t bother to hold off stroking himself, just envisioning his boy. The more he thought, the more he wanted. With the doctor’s warning, only thing to do was get off in the shower, rather than face him, unsatisfied, in bed.

“Rome!”

Shit. Rome whipped around, his back to the shower curtains in case anything untoward could be seen.

“Why don’t I go get you something to eat?” Brian entered the bathroom. “You must be starvin’ and I’m thinkin’ I’d kinda like some milk--or better yet, a strawberry shake or ice cream--something like that. We passed some places--”

“Oh, no you ain't!” Dropping the soap, Rome ripped the curtain back just enough to look out. “Get yo’ ass back to bed, O'Conna’, o’ I go tie it down!” Never mind that he was damn fly enough to eat, even with his curls mussed up and no shower.

“I’m just gonna drive over--”

“No, you ain't.” Rome released the curtain to fumble for the soap. “Don’t you go nowhe’. I’ll be out in a couple a seconds and go get us both som'm ta eat, a’ight?”

Back in the bedroom less than ten cheated minutes later, at the end of the other double bed, Rome unpacked something to wear, in his towel. Somehow, Brian was staying put on the other bed, watching the news. Now that they were gonna be in town somewhere a few days, they should probably get some laundry done. Of course, Rome was gonna have to do all of it. He just didn’t know how he was gonna keep an eye on O'Conner at the same time. Take his keys, probably. Still, that didn’t insure he’d stay in bed while Rome was in the laundry room or the Laundromat, whatever he could find.

“Remember,” Rome said, “what the docto’ said.”

“Man,” Brian complained. “I’m sure it won't kill me to go through a drive-thru or something.”

“When I came in to see you las’ time, you was in a hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail. Hand-cuffed,” Rome stressed. “You know how that made me feel? An’ for all that stayin’ in bed they made you do, you know what happened. What chyou think happen if you go runnin’ aroun’?”

No response. Then Brian suddenly sucked in his breath. “You’re right, man. I didn’t remember that.”

Rome looked to Brian and saw his eyes were wet again. Shit, he didn’t mean to upset him. Course, if Brian had more sense. No, that wasn’t it; he usually had sense. He probably really didn’t remember. Probably made himself forget. “Hey,” Rome went to him. “Neva’ mind. I finish gettin’ dressed and go get us dinna’. You go showa’. What chyou wanna eat?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Brian looked so sorry. “You know I’m not like this. All of a sudden I can't remember things anymore.”

“We both had a fucked-up day, gettin’ shot at an’ all…” Rome shrugged. “Don’ matta’.”

For a moment, Brian’s gaze rested on Rome’s lap. Rome only then realized he was still partially erect under the towel. “I think…” Brian shifted his bare feet to the carpet, “I think I’m gonna go shower.”

“How you expec’ me not to get turned on? ” Rome demanded. “You know how I like them legs a yo’s. I tol’ you wasn’t a good idea, us sleepin’ togetha’. Look, you jus’ go showa’. What chyou want me to bring you?”

Brian suddenly seemed to have forgotten about the ice cream, too. “I’m thinkin’ Mexican. The guys at the station told us about that great place nearby.”

“A’ight.” That sounded real good. And Rome well knew Brian’s favorite Mexican foods.

~~~

Though it was late enough for the restaurant to be getting ready to shut down for the night, it was still hot outside. Hot like oven-baked Barstow hot. When Rome got back to the hotel room, it was nice and cool in the room, since they’d turned the air conditioner up. Brian was on the bed, like he should be. His blond hair was dark from dampness, all separated into curls, topaz earrings visible and sparkling. If that sight wasn’t inviting enough, he was wearing one of the colorful, long, tank-bodice dresses Rome had bought for him. It was the abstract red, fuchsia, and orange print. Brian’s knees were raised, the skirt thrown over his feet, modestly covering him.

In awe, Rome almost dropped the bags from the restaurant on the floor.

The stretch knit hugged that chest nice, showing off Brian’s new curves. He looked fucking dope. Soon as he saw Rome, he started to get up, but Rome halted him with a hand. “No, you jus’ stay theh’, baby.”

As Rome took the foil containers out and set everything up on the table, he kept sensing there was something a little different about O'Conner. Seemed like it, but then again not. That was, there was something very familiar about him, too. Something Rome had been too blind pay attention to, but it seemed like Brian had slowly been changing since before they left Miami. It was almost like he was getting back to his old self from before he became a cop.

“So.” Rome tore off the top of the bag of tortilla chips, then lay the polystyrene cup of salsa open. “What made you decide to wea’ one of the dresses I got chyou, fo’ a change?”

“I don’t know--maybe I shouldna worn it.” Brian moved to get off the bed.

“No, I like it. I’m glad you finally decided to ‘preciate it. I’m just wonderin’ what took you so long.”

“Well…for one, it’s hot. And the dress is more comfortable and I thought about it, and realized it’s quicker and easier for me to make sure I haven’t started bleeding, or if I have to go back to the hospital or something.”

“Don’t say that.” That wasn’t what Rome wanted to hear. “That’s not gonna happen, long as I’m he’ to make shu’ you okay.” He uncovered Brian’s plate and pulled back the chair to prompt him to the table and seat him.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m wearing it.” Brian came to the table and swept up his skirt properly to sit down.

Across the room was another folding chair Rome had to fetch for himself. He brought it to the desk to have his own dinner.

Without waiting, Brian took his plastic fork and scooped up some rice. “That and because you bought it for me and you’re being so nice and all, even though I don’t deserve it.”

“What chyou mean you don’ deserve it?”

“You know what I mean.” Brian gestured with the fork, then took another mouthful of rice, apparently liking it.

That convinced Rome to try the rice, too. It was off the hook. Then again, pigs always knew the best places to eat. “Don’t talk like that. I a’ready tol’ you I’m gonna make shu’ you good and nothin’ goes wrong. I know what I said, but I was jus’ pissed.”

After a bite of his main entre, Brian gestured excitedly with his fork. “Damn! Try the enchiladas,” he enthused, pronouncing the Spanish with the proper accent. “They’re the bomb!”

After they ate, Rome dutifully took care of the mess, and brought what was left of the tortilla chips and salsa to one of the beds to snack on together while they both kicked back and watched TV. It didn’t matter all that much what they were watching, ‘cos after a while Rome was more distracted by Brian’s bare legs when his skirt fell aside, than the TV. He’d always had such goddamn sexy legs. Even as a kid. Rome used to think they were cute, but as they got older he came to appreciate them more and more. Little by little Rome subtly drew the skirt up the slender, shapely muscles, getting more and more turned on. Best of all Brian did nothing to stop him.

Eventually, Rome raised the skirt enough to discover Brian was wearing heather gray boxer briefs underneath. Damn, but he looked good. And he was getting aroused, too.

Right then, Rome stopped himself, remembering the doctor’s strict instructions. He grabbed the remote control to find something else to watch that might better hold his attention. “This borin’.”

Seemingly undaunted by the change in programming, Brian slid to the edge of the bed.

“Wheh’ you goin’?” Rome was disappointed to feel the warmth of O'Conner’s body leave his side.

“Gotta take a piss,” Brian said, sounding a little breathy before he headed to the bathroom.

The late night news was coming on. Left alone, Rome kicked off his sneakers and socks and loosened his pants. Damn, his hard-on was ready for release from his loose jeans, but not yet. Not until it calmed some.

Soon as Brian came back to the bedroom, Rome had to do a double-take; evidently, O'Conner had stripped under the dress, 'cos an erection tented the skirt in front. He stopped at his luggage a moment, then got back on the bed, against the headboard and Rome. “What’re we watching now?” He obviously hadn’t been all that interested in the TV, either; he looked to Rome with interest.

Oh, shit.

There was nothing Rome wanted more than to seriously make love long and hard with O'Conner. Resisting, Rome got off the bed and cut around to the bathroom to get ready to sleep. There were two beds; all he had to do was take the other one when he came out.

In the bedroom, Brian didn’t say anything; just started channel-surfing. Still, there was only so much time Rome could kill. He took his time about brushing his teeth and washing up. He could use a shave, but was going to sleep, anyway.

When he came out, he was only in his jeans. He took his jersey to the luggage and dropped it there. Doing his best not to look at Brian, Rome went straight to the other bed.

“Comere,” Brian prompted. He’d already drawn back the bedcover.

“I don’ think I oughta…”

“No?” Brian looked at the empty bedside, then back at Rome. “We can watch TV, anyways.”

Exhaling, Rome went around to the left side of O'Conner’s bed, like always when they slept together. The skirt was a little more relaxed over Brian’s lap, but it was still being held up. To be safe, Rome left his jeans on when he got on the sheets.

In a moment, Brian shifted right up close to him, slid a leg right against Rome’s denim-covered one. A minute hadn’t passed before O'Conner turned to Rome and started kissing. His mouth still tasted good, like salt, salsa, and enchiladas. It didn’t go with toothpaste, but everything about Brian always tasted good, anyway. While he kissed, he ran his hand over Rome’s jaw and beard growth.

“Baby…” Fuck it. Rome pressed Brian right back and kissed him hungrily. Once they started kissing, they weren’t stopping. They just kept getting more and more passionate, going deeper and deeper. As they kissed, Rome felt some of the cuts on O'Conner’s pretty face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just kept wanting more.

Soon as Brian slipped that leg between Rome’s, he held back. “No, Brah’…You know we can’t…”

“We don’t gotta.” Brian stopped kissing, but stayed close. “We can just watch TV, like I said.”

How many times had they said that? Just hanging out at each other’s house, planning to watch TV or play video games, then before they knew it, they were making out like Armageddon was coming down outside.

They were more mature now; they could easily control themselves. Huh. Best thing to do was focus on the TV. Must have been a premium channel, because a movie with no commercials was on. Then Rome’s gaze fell on Brian’s chest, down the slight cleavage he was starting to get. Despite the bruising from the shoulder strap of the Skyline, he still looked damn good. Through the knit fabric, Rome could make out the contour of the swollen nipples.

“You’re not gonna go to sleep with your pants on,” Brian chided. “Come on; take ‘em off.”

It might have been the smartest thing to do, but Rome preferred not to lie on double seams all night. He slid toward the edge of the bed then stood, turned away from Brian. Yeah, Rome was getting hard again, so when he got back on the bed, he covered up with the sheet real quick. Then Brian pressed against him against beneath the sheet, legs all smooth. Only thing between them now was the dress, and it was hiked up above his knees.

“Think I’m starting to like the tats more and more,” Brian observed, looking over Rome. Then he started kissing Rome’s chest, making it obvious how much he liked what he saw.

“Hey,” Rome stopped him again. “You gonna get us both in trouble.”

“So don’t do me,” Brian murmured, mouth against Rome’s skin.

“Shit, Bry,” Rome panted. “Docto’ said no sex. I’m pretty shu’ that meant nothin’ at all.”

“She couldn’t have meant nothing at all,” Brian pressed. “She didn’t mean I couldn’t kiss that mouth of yours…” He started kissing again, this time focusing on Rome’s lower lip to the point of gently biting and sucking.

“Whoa!” Rome had to push Brian off. “I’m serious,” Rome panted. “You do that and i’ss all ove’, I swea’.”

That made Brian laugh. “’Kay. Suit yourself.” He lay back on his pillow, though still up against Rome.

They were too close, but Rome could at least breathe while he figured out how to inch away from O'Conner so they’d be on their own sides of the bed. Then there it was, tenting up the skirt of his dress like a goddamn flagpole. That was always Brian with that big dick a his. That had to mean something, didn’t it? He couldn’t be horny if he was having contractions. No, the doctor was very explicit; she said no sex.

Once again, Rome tried refocusing on the movie. Now that something exciting was going on there, maybe he could force himself. Or maybe he should just turn away because he couldn’t help but see out of the corner of his eye…

So, he started to turn away, but Brian caught him and slid down Rome’s body, drawing the sheet with him, all the while, running his mouth down Rome, too. That made Rome’s breath speed up. Especially when Brian got where he was going, and caught Rome’s piece to take into his mouth.

“Brian!” Rome snapped, catching Brian’s jaw.

That made Brian laugh. “Come on, Roman. Just lemme. I swear, you won't have to touch--”

“Like hell I won't! Tha’s what I mean! You do that, I won’t be able to stop myself. An’ when the docto’ said no sex, I’m pretty shu’ that meant you ain't even supposed to get off.”

Laughing harder, Brian crawled back up to the pillows and dropped back in his place against Rome. “Okay, okay, I swear…I’ll stop…”

“Believe me, it ain't like I don’ wanna. We just gotta do what’s best fo’ you right now.” Rome helped settle Brian against him in a less evocative position, with them both on their backs and covered them up loosely with the sheet so their aching hard-ons wouldn’t be so obvious. When Rome closed his eyes, he was reminded of how goddamn worn out he was. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

~~~

Thursday--August 19

Waking up in the morning was a little painful.

Brian had crashed so soundly he forgot what had happened the day before. His neck and chest ached. When he tried to sit up, he found his arms did, too. On seeing Pearce next to him, sleeping deeply, tenting the sheets with his full erection, Brian was amused. Damn, Rome looked so hot. His nap was just starting to show from not having shaved yesterday, but Brian had liked Rome with hair, too. And those hot, tantalizing pecs and abs. No wonder Brian had been so turned on last night.

Much as he wanted to wake Pearce up with some revitalizing sex, Brian had to pee way too much to linger in bed. As soon as he slid to the edge of the mattress, he realized it was a little worse than that. Everything in his pelvis felt heavy and mildly sore. Using the nightstand, he pushed himself up, dress falling down over him. God, what the hell…Then he remembered he was pregnant. Yeah. Pregnant. Without question.

What the fuck did he know about being pregnant? Jack shit. Thankfully, the soreness wasn’t too bad--just a little more uncomfortable than expected. Probably from the seatbelt. Dress hiked up, as he relieved himself in the bathroom, he thought about Pearce’s fucking commendable behavior last night. God, that just wasn’t Pearce. He never let even the slightest opportunity for sex get by. But what he’d done last night--it was meritorious. He really did give a damn. A real damn.

Leaning over the sink to wash up was painful, too. Made him wince. When he straightened up, he saw a hint of bruising on his chest in the U-shaped neckline of the dress. It was a nice dress, really. Soft and comfortable. The colors were a little loud, but they were tropical and pretty. Like most of the stuff Rome had brought. Nice. A lot more sexy than Brian was used to wearing any more. He was no good at choosing stuff like that. His mom was great at it. But Brian wasn’t into showing off his body. He was used to his mom doing that, but he’d never really liked her doing it. Still, if this was what Rome wanted…Brian would give in. He’d done it for his mom and for Pearce before; he could do it again.

If Brian didn’t hurt so much or feel so tired at the moment, he’d take a shower. Anyway, he wanted to be there when Rome woke up. He’d been so damn good. He deserved to get his way for a while.

It actually felt cold in the room with the air conditioner blasting all night long, so Brian paused to turn it down. Lying on the bed was a relief. It hurt less. From there, Brian slid next to Rome again. Covering up with the skirt, Brian slid a leg over Rome’s hard-on. That was a little more subtle. Then held onto him. All the memories of their life as a couple were coming back.

It didn’t take long before Pearce woke up. “Baby…” he murmured, and nestled against Brian, tighter. Just lying together was good enough for Brian at the moment. He felt almost comfortable enough to fall back asleep. After a while, Rome woke up a little more and ground his cock into Brian’s thigh. “Oh, yeah…” he groaned sleepily.

That stirred Brian; he pressed right back.

The more Rome woke, the harder he ground. Then he buried his face against Brian’s neck and the side of his face to kiss and mouth. Brian laughed lightly. Despite the discomfort, the thought of feeling Rome thrusting inside him was pretty tempting. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but hell, Rome deserved it, and Brian was horny enough for it. After all, he’d fallen asleep still wanting.

It wasn’t long before Rome woke up enough to turn onto Brian. There, he pulled at the shoulder of the dress to try to bare a breast. He uncovered as much as he could and put his mouth down to kiss and mouth. At the same time, he moved his hips onto Brian’s and really ground, ramming their erections onto each other.

That hurt. Way too much. The rough nuzzling against the bruises, then the weight on Brian’s abdomen. “Wait--wait!” Brian seized Rome’s shoulders and at least held him off a quarter.

“Wait fo’…?” Rome trailed. As he woke further, he focused on Brian’s chest. “Man, you all messed up…” That made Rome back off and slide beside Brian again. “I fo’got…”

Brian looked down at his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty nasty, isn’t it?” He fixed the dress strap.

“Nothin’ nasty-lookin’ abou’ chyou…” Rome settled his head on the pillow next to Brian’s. “Jus’ a bruise is all…”

That was an easy point to argue, but Brian didn’t want to at the moment. “Let’s go shower, babe. Then I’ll get us breakfast.”

“I like the sound a that…” Rome murmured. He kissed Brian’s head. “I missed you, baby…You so good to me…”

After standing and attempting to do as promised, Brian’s discomfort got worse. He adjusted the water temperature while Rome got ready to shower. Then once Brian let Rome ease him from the dress and they got into the shower, Rome pressed him into the tiled enclosure against the wall, kissing long and hard. The spill of warm water washing over them increased the slippery pleasure of their bodies driving against one another. Frottage was one of the customary forms of sex between them, before they could get a hold of contraception easily. Particularly after Brian began making a concerted effort to avoid the possibility of another pregnancy. They both seemed to still find it very titillating. But he began to realize that the ecstatic throbbing in his genitals was turning into an unpleasant, familiar, menstrual cramp-like sensation. All of a sudden he knew what the doctor was talking about. He alarmed.

“Wait, stop!” With a gasp, Brian shot to the back of the shower.

Frowning, Rome stepped after Brian. “Oh, hell no.”

“No, it’s hurting inside.” Brian dropped an arm between them to hold Rome off. “I swear to God, it don’t feel right.”

It took Rome half a second to wake up enough to remember what that could mean. This time, he alarmed, too, and backed off enough to look down Brian. “Oh, shit. Maybe you betta’ sit down.” Rome gently eased Brian down into the bathtub. “Jus’ stay theh’ an’ I shower us both up. Then we goin’ back to the E-Ah.”

At the moment, Brian didn’t argue. They probably should. He tried to take the soap from Rome to lather himself, but finally gave in. All the while, Brian kept watching the bathtub floor between his legs for any sign of blood. Though he’d been drugged on painkillers and who knows what at the time, snapshot memories flooded into sharp focus about the horrific experience of his first miscarriage. He gripped the edges of the tub willing it not to happen.

~~~

Still terrified, Brian reclined on the bed and let Rome dress both of them. Not a single complaint even occurred to Brian about wearing the red-orange crepe dress Rome put him in. He did have to insist on wearing his boxer briefs and a pad, though. He hadn’t bled at all overnight, but things might change. He didn’t hurt any worse, but when he stood up or moved too much, he found he didn’t hurt any less.

It was a little strange to see Rome so single-minded and concerned. He wasn’t usually that way. But he did everything except breathe for Brian in getting him back to the hospital. They took the Challenger, since Rome wasn’t all that comfortable with the right-hand drive of the Skyline. From there, Rome got a wheelchair at the ER, then took Brian to the reception desk.

Brian heard Rome tell them about the cramps and the visit the day before and how the doctor had instructed them to come right back, immediately. All the while, Brian wanted to check his pad, but he daren’t move. God, if he was having another miscarriage, he’d just as soon they went back to the hotel so Brian could get out his P226 and swallow a bullet right then and there. He thought of all the times Rome had tried to talk him into having another baby, and wished to God so bad he hadn’t been so stubborn and given him all the babies he wanted, no matter how difficult their situation had been. They’d have kids and that would have kept them from breaking up and going their separate ways.

It didn’t seem like he waited too long. Then again, it seemed like forever. On the way through the ER doors, the nurse asked if Brian was having any bleeding. He said he hadn’t, but he hadn’t checked since he got dressed. They took him to a restroom and told him to check again, as he needn’t get undressed until the doctor saw him and decided what needed to be done next. Brian didn’t want to look, but had no choice.

The fact that his vulva had come to develop a new state of wetness most of the time had been a minor nuisance; now, however, it brought on a whole new state of discomfiture, under the circumstances. Being turned on didn’t seem to have much influence on the state, anymore. That had happened the first time he was pregnant, too. Alone in the restroom, he had to take down his pants and check his pad again; thankfully, there was still no sign of blood.

In yet another ER bay, Rome accompanied the nurse in helping Brian get up on the gurney. After he was comfortable, the nurse pointedly asked Rome if he was the father. Seeing him stumble for a reply was a rarity. Brian, however, didn’t know what to say, either, unwilling to put Rome off.

“Well, no,” Rome finally managed.

“Then you should go out to the waiting room--” the nurse began.

“No!” Brian quickly intervened. “I want him here. We’re together.”

The nurse paused, then gave a curt nod. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Rome took Brian’s hand and wrapped his fingers around his, tightly. “I’ll stay wit’ chyou, baby. Like I said, I won't let nothin’ happen to you.”

~~~

The doctor this time was a dude and unlike the one from yesterday who hadn’t bothered to give her name, introduced himself as Dr. Minnard, the consulting OB. His pierced ears, discreet makeup, and long ponytail suggested he was herm, as well. After hearing a preliminary story about the day before, then the update from that night and morning, he told them they’d start out by listening for the baby’s heartbeat. They then should get an ultrasound to get a look at what was going on inside. That all sounded like a good idea. So, along with a fetal Doppler stethoscope, Dr. Minnard ordered a bedside ultrasound, and instructed Brian he’d need to drink a couple of 16 ounce bottles of water while all that was being arranged. Also, he was to keep the staff apprised if he had any worse pain in his abdomen or started bleeding.

Patiently, Rome sat with Brian, while he drank the 16 ounce bottles of water, as promised. In the meantime, the staff had him lift the dress up above his waist and cover up with a paper drape, and then they brought in the fetal Doppler scope. As a cop, Brian had seen them in ambulances, so he knew how they were used. Still, he was anxious about it, worried they might not detect anything. He watched apprehensively as the doctor sat down on a stool next to the bed and moved the bell-end of the stethoscope around on Brian’s bared abdomen, adjusting the volume on the speaker. He tried to remain as still as possible so not to make any noise, and wouldn’t drink any more--until they heard it. The soft, rapid pitter-patter going on inside him. Real fast.

Both Brian and Rome were so relieved, they looked to each other simultaneously. Rome broke into a broad smile. “Is that it? Is that the baby?”

Also smiling, the doctor nodded. “Sounds good and strong.”

Exhaling, Brian let himself drop back on the pillow, realizing all the wrenched muscles in his chest, arms, and neck were aching worse from holding himself up. It was the first absolute physical confirmation of his pregnancy. God. He was pregnant again. He really was. And he was pretty damn sure he knew exactly who the father was.

Then Rome worried again. “Tha’s a little fast, ain’ it? Is that a’ight?”

The doctor moved the scope and got even louder feedback. “That’s about right for a baby this young.” He looked pleased. “I’d still like to get that sonogram so we can make sure everything looks as good as it sounds. Don’t forget to drink up,” the doctor urged Brian. “You go ahead and listen to your baby ‘til we bring the ultrasound over here.”

When Dr. Minnard had disappeared again, Rome eyed the fetal Doppler. “They oughta give these things out to eve’body expectin’ a baby, you know? That way they a’ways know how they baby doin’.”

It was a great idea, but there was more to it than that, Brian thought. It was going to be hard dealing with the whole thing, but now that it had been confirmed, he found he really wanted it to be so. It was like Rome had said, if it really was Dom’s baby, it would be a tie that would forever remind Brian of that brief, all-out, wild encounter that had literally broken his heart. And as crazy and stupid as it may be, he wanted that anyway. “Yeah. Then I’d always remember he’s here with me and I wouldn’t take him--or her--for granted.”

Rome dropped his gaze and his smile faded. “Wish we’d known about oua’s…”

“Rome.” Brian put his hand on his homey’s. He knew he wanted Dom back in his life so bad…Just as bad, he knew it would never happen. Pearce was right there, so caring and devoted. There would never be any getting over Toretto, but there was a need to get past him, and Rome, as irresponsible and wild as he was, was there for the offering and both of them needed to repair their history so desperately. “No matter what, we can still raise this one like he’s ours. And we can have another one, for sure. You and me.”

A whole new blissful hope blossomed on Rome’s face as he looked up at Brian again. “You and me fo’ shu’? Seriously?”

At the moment, Brian felt like he was taking a helluva chance. But the risk seemed greater not to take. “Yeah. Absolutely…”

~~~

It wasn’t long before they brought the portable ultrasound. Brian had barely started on the second bottle of water, and hardly had to pee, which he understood was the point, but they didn’t seem too concerned. The technician glopped the cold gel on Brian’s exposed belly between the drape and the dress, once everything was set up. Then the tech turned down the lights over the bed. He seemed fairly proficient at what he was doing. He got a picture right away, little as Brian could make of what he was looking at.

Fortunately, the doctor showed up again pretty quick. He gave a few instructions for markers to the tech, who carried them out quickly. Then the doctor asked, “Did they tell you how far along you are?”

“N-no,” Brian admitted. “I just know it’s been a while since I had a period.”

“The baby looks about 14 weeks.”

“Fourteen weeks?” Brian started. “That far?” That was a week further than he’d got, the first time. Then he wondered if some of those weird sensations he’d been having were the baby’s movements.

“There’s the head,” the doctor pointed to the screen.

Immediately, Brian strained to see, once again putting pressure on those sore muscles and tendons. He didn’t care. He just wanted desperately to see a recognizable image that resembled a baby, but couldn’t really.

“See,” Dr. Minnard went on, “judging on the size, from crown to rump, I’d say the baby is about the size of a 14-week-gestational fetus.”

The word “fetus” implied he was talking about an actual baby. “I’m not sure what I’m seeing…” Brian trailed.

“Here’re the arms,” the doctor continued, still pointing, like everything was perfectly obvious. “One leg…and here’s the other one…The baby’s pretty active right now…Oh, and there’s the umbilical cord, right across there….”

Active? Then the mild fluttering that Brian would have attributed to last night’s Mexican dinner was actually the baby. Though he sort of thought he saw, he still couldn’t be sure. “Is everything okay at least? Is it normal? Is anything messed up?”

Again, Dr. Minnard proceeded. “I see no signs of bleeding or abruption of the placenta. I think you’re good right now.”

“Then why did it hurt?”

“You’ve got seatbelt bruises across your abdomen. No doubt your uterus and its ligaments are irritable, causing some irregular contractions from the accident. Plus the bruising means you’ve had some bleeding in your pelvic muscles. That’s why you’ve got to take it very easy right now. You did the right thing by coming in so we could make sure you weren’t developing any regular contractions.”

Brian blinked, horrified. Evidently Rome picked up on it, too, as he was starting to look horrified himself.

“Would you like to know the baby’s sex?”

A surge of adrenalin hit Brian so hard he thought he was going to be sick. He thought he remembered feeling struck just as hard when he was told the sex of his first baby. Everything kind of went gray, he fell back on the gurney, and all sounds turned into a high-pitched whine. He didn’t have any idea what happened after that until he found himself breathing hard, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. What the fuck…? As his senses slowly started to return, he felt a strong, effervescent stirring going on inside as intense as the day before when he’d had to play tag on the highway behind the wheel of the Skyline. Out of focus, Dr. Minnard and now a couple of nurses were bustling over him, checking his vital signs. Though Brian was still reeling, he heard the doctor laughing, which was at least reassuring.

“I think,” the doctor was saying, “Mr. O'Conner’s had a little too much excitement for now. Let’s admit him to Obstetrics for 24 hours so we can keep an eye on him and the baby. How does that sound?”

“Whateve’ he need,” Rome answered quickly.

~~~

Brian was still disoriented when they took him to a room. They traded the oxygen mask for a nasal cannula and helped change his clothes for a hospital gown. That prompted a quicker recovery than he was ready for on his part, because he still felt slightly light-headed.

As he was settled back down onto the bed, one of the nurses pointed out that his jewelry had to come off and asked for his earrings, the only pieces he wore. With uncertainty, he removed the golden topaz studs slowly, unwilling to give them up for fear he’d never see them again. They meant more to him than he liked to admit to himself.

What he really needed was some help struggling through the emotions that were tearing at him. The truth was, this baby was as much a mistake as the first one and he knew it. Another stupid mistake he’d let happen simply because he’d been too caught up in the moment. Just like the first time. Once again, he felt like he didn’t deserve the privilege of being a mother and sure enough, the first one had been taken from him as a result. It was making it all a little too real when Dr. Minnard offered to identify the baby’s sex. In a painful way, too. Brian remembered how hard Rome’s mom had taken it when she told him. She’d cried about it for months. Just thinking about it made Brian almost start crying again, himself.

Now he was worried over what he’d said to Rome about having a baby of their own again. He’d seemed to want that, but what if he was now going through the same angst Brian was fighting, thinking about the baby they’d lost, making him resent what was going on at the moment all over again. It was no secret to anyone that Rome could have a volatile temper, but Brian had always liked that about him. It was downright sexy. Brian was attracted to those who not only stood up for themselves, but could and would hold their own to the death.

How Rome was going to feel about this now, Brian had no idea. The dude could change his mind about the whole thing. Hell, Brian was too scared to be sure how he felt about it, himself. No matter how he looked at it, he was fucked.

Behind a couple of sets of curtains, he couldn’t see who came in when he heard the soft scuff of sneakers on the waxed floor. He thought he recognized Rome’s slow saunter. When Pearce did appear, Brian turned his head slightly so not to have to meet his gaze.

“How you doin’?” Rome came to the bed. He was holding something; papers and photos. He set the photos on the blanket for Brian to see. “Them’s pi’tchas from the ultrasoun’.”

Brian looked. Sure enough, he saw hard copies that were similar to the images on the ultrasound screen. Right then he was glad they didn’t look like a baby or he would have lost it.

Leaving the bedside again, Rome found an empty chair. He pulled it close and sat down, leaning back. For a moment he was silent, studying his fingernails. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and modulated, like he did whenever he was really pissed. “Three-and-a-half months ago I was in Ba’stow…livin’ in a Winnebago, runnin’ in the demolition derby…”

Brian didn’t say anything. There wasn’t shit he could say. He looked away from the ultrasound photos to the foot of the bed.

After a couple more moments, Rome leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Why’d you drag me th’oo all that..? Lettin’ me think maybe it was mah baby…?”

“’Cos for a while…I really wasn’t sure…I got all confused about the time, man…”

“I mean, all this shit you dragged me th’oo…Gettin’ threatened and nea’ly killed in Miami…an’ now out he’ on the road wit’ Verone’s dudes afta’ my ass wit’ AK-47s an’ all…I’d a been betta’ off if you’d a left me in Ba’stow waitin’ out my probation time…My record might not be clean an’ I might have a hard time gettin’ work, but at least no crazy-ass drug lord who got no problem burnin’ people be afta’ my ass right now. Then gettin’ my hopes up like this. It’d be all worth it if that baby--”

“I meant what I said. About our having a baby together. I didn’t know I was pregnant and I didn’t know things would get as bad as they did. I thought it would be worth it to clear our records. I couldn’t know things would ever get that bad.”

“I don’ know…” Rome kept his head down.

“Yeah, I know…it’s fucked up, no matter how I look at it.”

“Thing is, you been as good to me as you been bad…”

“I never deliberately pulled shit on you and you know it.”

“No, you neva’ did,” Rome admitted, shaking his head. “You listened to my crazy ideas an’ stuck th’oo a lot a them. An’ even when you quit listenin’, it was ‘cos you was tryin’ to do the best thing fo’ me…”

“I thought the same thing when I went back to Barstow to get you.”

“But, what about this dude?” Rome finally looked up at Brian, appearing more resigned than angry. “This dude you in love wit’?”

Once again, Brian quickly shielded his gaze by turning his head. “I told you, I’m never gonna see him again as long as I live, so forget about him.”

“Ain’t none of us eva’ gonna fo’get about him wit’ that baby aroun’.”

Suddenly panic-stricken, Brian regarded Rome with fury. “I swear to God, Rome, you better not be suggesting--”

“No, no,” Rome quickly recanted, looking earnestly at Brian. “That’s not what I’m sayin’. I just don’t see how we gonna fo’get about him, so we both gotta think about that. ”

“Just fuck it, damn it! I don’t want to talk about him! If you’re gonna keep goin’ on about him, you may as well get the fuck out a here right now!”

“You showin’ me right now how crazy you is about him.”

That stopped Brian cold. He hadn’t meant to be so obvious and worse, he couldn’t deny it. “Look, I-I’m just freaked out about all this, is all. What do you expect, you know?”

Rome shifted, then said quietly. “How you think I feel about it?”

In a way Brian didn’t even want to contemplate. “So, let’s just try not to think about it.”

“I brought you he’ to the hospital on accoun’ I was worried about you. Worried about what I thought was mah’ baby. How you think I feel about that now? Think I’d a bothered if I knowed it was his?”

Brian shook his head slightly, unable to answer.

“Anyway, I had to ansa’ a bunch a questions an’ fill out some papeh’s. They wanted to know yo’ address an’ eveh’thin’, but I couldn’t tell ‘em that, ‘cos you ain’t got one right now. I had to tell ‘em you ain’ got no insurance, eitha’ on accoun you between jobs, but you used to be a cop, an’ you crazy enough to plan on goin’ back to bein’ one. Tha’s all I said. They didn’ argue no mo’ once the found out you was a cop.”

Struggling, for self-control, Brian quickly wiped a tear away.

Apparently, Rome saw that. “You cryin’…Oh, man, don’ go an’ do that…” With a sigh, Pearce stood up and came to the bed. “You know one thing I can’t take is when you do that…”

“Can’t help it,” Brian sniffed. “I feel like shit. I feel like I let you down so bad…”

“Yeah, but…” Rome moved to touch Brian, but at the same time, seemed reluctant. “It’s not like you knew we all was gonna be seein’ each otha’ again…”

“It was a stupid mistake, anyhow. No matter how I look at it.”

At last, Rome caught Brian and hugged him close. “You been doin’ too much a this. So long as you admit yo’ sorry an’ it was a mistake, I guess I oughta fo’give you…Anythin’ to make you stop cryin’…”

~~~

Sunday--August 20

Leaving the abrasive racket of the cantina, Toretto returned to the garage to collapse on the cot in the quiet back room within the glow of a fluorescent work lamp. He’d stripped down to his undershirt and the only pair of clean pants he had. He’d have to hit the laundromat sometime tomorrow, he knew. He thought about the company he’d just blown off, wondering why he’d gone out that night at all. It felt like he’d just pulled an escape, even though his intention had been to find a partner for the night. None of them, for sure.

The tiny corrugated tin town was getting stale. Over the past couple of weeks he and fellow mechanics, Santos and Leo, had been bitching about the cheap-ass pay their skinflint jefe gave them despite long hours and extra detail outside their job description.

It was getting time to move on.

From his pocket, he took out a new pay-as-you-go cell phone he’d purchased earlier that day and peered at the dial. He keyed in then saved his old phone number from Echo Park. It seemed like a million years ago that he’d lived there.

After a few rings, his sister answered. She sounded tired—perhaps like she’d been sleeping. It was only after 1:00 am or so and it was summer, so he knew she wasn’t up studying.

“Mia.”

“God… Why are you calling? Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” he managed drunkenly. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

There was a pause. “Well…There’re a lot of things…There’s Jesse.”

Hearing that Jesse had survived had been welcome news. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s out of the hospital. He’s doing pretty good. He asks about you all the time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dom was amused. It sounded like Jesse was recovering well.

“He says crazy things. Like he thinks we need to figure out some way to bring you back.”

“Yeah, well if he comes up with something, lemme know.”

“He says…He says we should hook up with Brian.”

“What?” That was crazy all right. What was Jesse thinking?

“I know,” Mia concurred, reading his thoughts. “As if we needed that creep back in our lives. I explained everything to Jesse, but he doesn’t care. He got really attached to that jerk and seems to think he’d be on our side.”

Shutting his eyes, Dom rubbed them. “If you explained everything, it makes sense why he thinks that.”

“I disagree.”

Discussing Brian aloud made a surge of excitement course down Dom’s belly. He couldn’t help it; he longed to talk about him and it perturbed Dom that he felt that way. He couldn’t keep from leaping at the chance. “I told you: Spilner gave me the keys to his car. If it wasn’t for that I’d be in lockup right now.”

She hesitated. “But, he lied to us. He’s a goddamn cop. Or was, anyway. They must have busted him by now and thrown him in jail where he belongs.”

The past few months Toretto had been wondering what had happened to Spilner. O'Conner, actually. He didn’t have much way of hearing the news in the US and couldn’t bring himself to ask her the last time they’d spoken. He didn’t want her thinking he gave a damn about the guy or that Dom couldn’t get him out of his mind. He should just fucking change the subject before she got suspicious, but was too desperate to hear about Brian. This news, however, was upsetting. “They did?”

“I don’t know. All I know is they called off the manhunt on him, so I’m guessing that’s what must have happened.”

Dom tried to sound indifferent. “Then what’s Jesse talking about? It’s not like the guy can do anything from a jail cell.”

“It’s not as if he even would,” she snapped. “It’s just that Jesse still has this thing for the asshole. I’d think he would despise him for the shit he did to us, but Jesse always thought he was cute and had this kind of hero crush on him.”

It was a disturbing thought that O'Conner may possibly be in lockup, for reasons Dom could neither qualify nor quantify. He needed to talk to Jesse. “Where’s Jesse living now?”

“I-I’m having him stay here. He didn’t really have any place to go when he got out of the hospital. He talked about going to stay with his mom, but,” she intoned with sarcasm, “we know how much his stepdad would have appreciated that. I couldn’t stand the thought of Jesse being treated like crap. So I told him he could stay here.”

“But you’ve got too much shit to do of your own. How can you take care of him, too?”

“Right now I’ve got no classes, so that makes it easier. And I hired someone to work at the market. Someone to clerk and serve the food, you know? I come and go so I can help Jesse, then do the bookkeeping and order supplies for the store.”

Dom didn’t quite suppress a growl. He didn’t like the idea of a stranger coming into the market to work without screening them himself. Not that Mia was a bad judge of character—she was actually pretty good at it. The business belonged to the family and had almost exclusively employed family members. Dom felt strongly about taking part in hiring for the business. “Who is it?”

“Another student at UCLA. I put up an ad at school and don’t worry, I interviewed her thoroughly.”

“Look, lemme talk to Jesse.”

“I just heard him in the hall. There is something else I need to tell you: I’m selling the garage.”

“What?” he alarmed. “The garage?”

“I have to. It’s been shut all this time. It’s become an expense I can’t do anything with. I need the money, unless I give up on med school and go to work.”

“No! No way!” This time he rubbed his head when he leaned forward on the edge of the cot. He needed a shave again, but just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. It seemed like everything was falling apart. “We’ll talk some more about it later. Just put Jesse on for now.”

“All right, but I can’t put it off for long.” Within moments, the phone exchanged hands.

“Hey!” Jesse sounded excited. Mia must have reminded him not to use Dom’s name over the phone. “I can’t believe we’re talking, man! How the fuck are you?”

“Jesse.” It was safe to state Jesse’s name, since the police had nothing on him. “Listen. You doin’ okay? I know you were pretty messed up, but you’re gonna be okay, right?”

“Sure, I am. The doctors say so. I can’t take a deep breath yet, but as long as I don’t do any deep sea diving or run any marathons, I’m not expecting it to be a problem.”

“And the garage?” It pained Toretto to say it. “That’s being sold?”

“There’s a buyer ready. I mean, if I could do anything to help hold onto it, I would. But, you know, I can’t work it alone.”

With time at a premium, Dom pressed on. “No, don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough shit to worry about just getting well. Mia just told me Spil--O'Conner was busted. That true?”

“That’s what she thinks.”

“Was he or wasn’t he?”

“Man, I don’t think so. She thinks I’m just talking shit ‘cos she’s pissed at him. Yeah, I get why she’s pissed, but she don’t see the big picture. It was fucked he was a cop, but then he made up for it. If he gave you the Supra, like she said, then he apologized for what he did by giving you the car. That’s the way I see it.”

“I wish he’d just turned down the case. That would have been the best damn thing he could have done.”

“I don’t think it works that way, man. I think a cop’s gotta do whatever he’s assigned to do, you know?”

“Whatever.” Dom didn’t really want to think any more about that existential aspect. “What makes you think he wasn’t busted?”

“They just stopped talking about his case. If they’d a busted him, they would have reported his capture, the trial, and all that shit. But, they never said nothing more about him. And I’ve been listening, waiting to hear about him. So, I think he got away.”

Sighing, Dom lay back on the creaking cot. “In other words, you’re just guessing.”

“It’s a pretty good guess. Why? Have you heard something else?”

“No. I can’t really hear much of anything where I’m at. Why do you care so much?” Dom questioned, hoping he sounded just flippant enough, when he was actually wondering why either of them did.

“For one, I know he could probably figure out a way for you to come back home.”

“And what makes you think he’d even want to do something like that? Providing he isn’t rotting in some jail right now?”

“Ooh, I hope not,” Jesse shuddered. “I hate to think what would happen to him if he had to spend any time inside.”

That was one of many things Toretto didn’t want to contemplate. “I’d probably better get off the phone now.”

“I think he might,” Jesse went on, “’cos of how he felt about you, man. Why do you think he tried to make up for having been the cop that was supposed to bust you? That’s the reason he gave you the Supra, man. Don’t you get it?”

“Hmm,” Toretto grunted. “I think those bullets must have knocked some sense out of your head. You’re talking crazy, just like Mia said.” He drew the phone from his ear and disconnected.

~~~

Thankfully, Dr. Minnard’s orders were that if Brian had no further pain or problems overnight, he could leave in the morning. And he hadn’t. So, right after breakfast, Brian got ready to go with a little help from Rome. One of the nurses brought his belongings in the plastic bag they’d been packed in. That included the earrings, which Rome was well-practiced at inserting. However, on seeing them, Brian demurred. Maybe it was time to stop wearing them. Maybe it just wasn’t right to wear them around Rome. They reminded Brian too much of his short-lived affair, and it hurt.

“You don’ wanna wea’ yo‘ earrin’s?” Rome was puzzled. “I tol’ you befo’ about hermin’ it up. And anyway,” he added, “you look damn pretty in ‘em.”

Realizing it was going to arouse suspicion not to, Brian tried to think of a credible excuse. He couldn’t in those few seconds. “I-I just wanna hurry up and get out of here.” He took the other earring to get it started, while Rome adroitly fixed the left one in place.

In addition, Dr. Minnard also gave Brian more orders about strict bed rest when they left the hospital. And the strict bed rest had to be for four more days. Right after they got back to the hotel, Rome left Brian there, and went to go pick up the prescriptions, more maps, and then lunch, following the doctor’s orders once again. So, Brian poured over the maps to devise a new route, which was about all he could do, anyway, from bed. Already in Texas, the trip should only take them a couple of more days to get to California. However, he decided to make the trip confusing, should Verone continue to try and track them. So, the trip wound up taking four days, depending on how elaborate a route Brian planned. Meaning they wouldn’t get to California for over a week. And there was one more thing they should consider; getting themselves some different cars.

Why had they had to get stuck in a small town with a matching hotel and cable service? Where the only TV to watch was basic and a handful of premium channels? They should be able to pick up service from San Antonio, only 70-odd miles away, but the hotel was too cheap-ass for that. For sure Brian would go stir-crazy if he had to sit in that room for four solid days.

Maps and skirt spread out on the neatly-made bed, Brian made notes with the crappy hotel pen on the stationery. Right away, he got impatient and called Rome on his cell to request he pick up some high-lighters and marking pens while he was at the drug store. Strangely for Rome, instead of complaining, he agreed, because it was probably better if Brian didn’t attempt any errands himself.

It was a little after 1:00 p.m. when Rome returned. He set down the packages from the drug store, then lunch on the table he drew up to the bed again. That was to keep Brian on the bed, rather than go to eat at the table like a normal, civilized person. While Rome was occupied with setting out lunch, Brian took out the packs of colored marking pens and high-lighters. Then he found his medication vials. One of little tablets of promethazine for the nausea and a big jar of prenatal vitamins. They were nothing short of massive.

“How’m I supposed to swallow that?” he asked Rome, holding up one of the pills.

Focused on the food, Rome took a moment to think of an answer, while he studied the pill. “I don’ know…That’s what they gave me at the pharmacy. How should I know? Look what I got ya’ll.” Last of all, he took a large paper cup out of the bag that had chocolate milkshake leaking out from the lid.

“Whoa. That’s a meal in itself.”

“Docto’ said you was too skinny and needed to feed that chil’. So, drink up. You can swallow that big-ass pill down wit’ that.”

“He said that?” Brian didn’t remember.

“Hell, yeah. Lady docto’ said it, too.”

With a little effort, Brian recalled her saying something along those lines. He should be gaining weight, and he sure didn’t look it. It seemed like he was often hungry any more, but seldom got the chance to act on it.

Over lunch, Brian thought it time to broach the subject of their rides. He wasn’t sure how Rome would feel about it.

“Listen,” Brian said, leaning over the table, helping himself to his serving of coleslaw, “I think we’d better do something about those cars.”

“Som'm like what?” The TV was on, and Rome’s attention was trained there while he ate.

“I told you before about the orange Challenger and the Skyline being too obvious. I think it’s time we got rid of ‘em.”

Looking thoughtful, Rome punched off the TV with the RC, then set down his drink, leaning forward over the table, too. “I guess you right about that. Gettin’ another Dodge is nothin’; we can get ‘em all day. But, that Skyline; you ain’ neve’ gonna get another crack at a cah’ like that.”

“Yeah, I know…” Brian rubbed his smooth chin regretfully.

“Ain’ that yo’ baby?”

It was, but Brian knew he didn’t have a choice. “The worst part is that we have to get cars that are real low-key. Something they’d never expect us to get. It’s not like we can go out and get som'm like I used to have, before I got this one, either.”

“What’d you have?”

“A red Mitsubishi 3000GT.”

“Mmm,” smiling, Rome understood. “This time you gonna have to downgrade. So, what’re you talkin’ about? Buyin’ off a lot?”

“’Fraid so,” Brian nodded.

“Damn,” Rome cursed, unhappy. “You mean we have to get like a mini-van o’ som'm? Tha’s about what you oughta be thinkin’ about gettin’ next anyway.”

Brian couldn’t help being amused. “I wasn’t talkin’ about sinkin’ that low.”

“Get chyo’ little ‘Baby On Boa’d’ sign on, an’ everythin’…” Rome teased.

“I’m not getting no mini-van if I can help it. Still, we oughta check out some car lots between here and the Texas border soon as we can get out of here. We’ll just have to get whatever we can find.”

Frowning, Rome looked unconvinced. “You gonna take a big loss on that Skyline, whateve’ you get an’ you know it. We didn’t have to put that much into that Challenga’; it was already tuned when we got it. But, that Skyline…Lus trade in my ca’ an’ sto’ yo’s.”

“Store mine? How’re we gonna store it? We’re in the middle of Texas.”

“Send it to somebody. By freight.”

Brian thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. Except it could be expensive. “Who would I send it to? How ‘bout your uncle or your dad back in Barstow? He can keep it in the back of his shop.”

Again, Rome looked reproving. “I wouldn’t trust them not to mess wit’ it.”

“I know.” Brian had a sudden inspiration. “First, let’s find out how much it would cost to ship. If it doesn’t set us back too much, then I’ll call Tej.”

~~~

The route Brian had mapped out was kind a crazy, but it was all for good reason; they got back on the main highway and Verone’s dogs were bound to find them real easy. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon marking the two sets of maps so they could both follow the route, in case they got separated for any reason. And they were both going to keep spare maps in their cars with no marks so they could draw up alternate routes at a moment’s notice. They also planned what cities they’d probably stop in overnight. O'Conner, being O'Conner, seemed to think he could last for hours and hours on the road. But, Rome knew that would never work, the way his boy was anymore, and tried talking some sense into him. They’d have to take breaks over the day, rather than drive straight through ‘til night. He resisted while they talked it over. Once they got on the road, Rome knew Brian would change his mind, so gave up trying to convince him then.

Sure enough, he fell asleep watching TV around 3:00 in the afternoon for a couple of hours. He’d never make it through a solid day of driving when they left, Thursday.

That night when they prepared to go to sleep, Rome took the other bed and put on a pair of pajama pants. Even if the doctor hadn’t decreed the pelvic rest, Rome wasn’t in any mood to sleep with the jezebel. When he saw Brian had changed out of his dress into one of his oversized T-shirts, it was just as well.

~~~

Monday--August 21

The next day Rome let Brian go ahead and shower first, just as long as he left the door open in case he needed help. Then when he came out of the bathroom in just a couple of towels, and despite the seatbelt bruising, Rome couldn’t help but get aroused. Only thing Rome could do to save himself was to flee into the bathroom to shower and relieve his ache for Brian and hopefully, he wouldn’t be interrupted again. It was damn hard just thinking about him, ‘cos Rome wanted him as much as not, the goddamn tramp.

When Rome came out, he found Brian had put on one of his last clean dresses--the one in the shades of aqua, with the halter top. It had some room for him to grow--which he would--and therefore exposed him a little more than was meant to, whenever Rome looked down the front of it, or at his sides. Shit. The colors of the dress really set off his eyes, too, which was the intention. But then, all colors set off O'Conner’s amazingly beautiful eyes. His eyes could be green, gray, violet—matching whatever he wore. Blue, however, always looked arresting on him. The sparkling topaz earrings were truly the piece de resistance to the picture.

Maybe it was time to run out and do some laundry after breakfast, as long as they were stuck there, rather than get too excited again.

At a nearby coffee shop picking up breakfast, Rome found himself impatient to get back to their room. What was he thinking, leaving all that tight back at the hotel? Yeah, so O'Conner was a ho’, sleeping with somebody else. It didn’t matter anymore. The guy was history. O'Conner kept saying it was over and he was never gonna see dude again. It was Rome who kept bringing him up, not O'Conner. Course he did. He was jealous. Jealous of the son-of-a-bitch who’d put his hands on Brian. Then had the nerve to dump him. Who the fuck could be that stupid? Not Rome. Here, he had the chance to make good with O'Conner again, and he was too dumb to realize that he was on the verge of throwing it away. Not anymore. He wasn’t gonna fuck up a second time.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when his cell rang.

“Hey, Rome.”

“Yeah, Brah.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, shu’.” Rome eyed the short order cook’s actions behind the counter, wishing he’d hurry up.

“There’s something I really want.”

“What’s ‘at?”

“Promise me you’ll bring it.”

“What is it?” Rome’s curiosity was piqued.

“Promise first.”

“That depend on what it is.”

“You’re gonna have to promise, first or there’s no point in telling you.”

Rome heaved. He remembered the games he and Brian used to play back when they were kids. “A’ight, I promise.”

“Get me a pack of cigarettes.”

“What?” Goosed back to reality, Rome checked his voice, before hissing, “Hell no! I ain' doin’ that!”

“Oh, come on, you promised.”

“Yeah, but you pregnant. You can’t smoke no cigarettes.”

“I really only want just one. I swear.”

“I thought you’d quit.”

“I’ve been working on it. I haven’t had one in months.”

“I ain' seen you smoke once since you came back to Ba’stow.”

“I know. That’s how long it’s been. Get me some, please. I’ll owe you big time, I swear. You can have the rest.”

“I don’t smoke no mo’. I quit way back.”

“Why’d you promise me for then?”

“You don’ ca’ how much you hurt yo’ kid?”

“One ain’t gonna hurt him. I’m sure he’ll be fine with one.”

Rome sighed. “A’ight. I guess it don’ matta’ to me if you wanna smoke jus’ one cigarette. But, I don’ want you gettin’ back in the habit. ” Rome saw the waitress take two polystyrene trays from under the hot lights and package them. “Bad fo’ yo’ health. Look, I be back in a few minutes.”

Back at the hotel, Rome found Brian impatiently padding around the room in the long dress. He practically pounced on Rome when he came in, for the cigarettes. He’d put an unbuttoned, short-sleeved, blue-gray, rayon shirt over the dress, his gray sneakers on his feet, and perched one of his darkest pairs of shades on his pretty nose. “Did you bring ‘em?”

“Hode on.” Rome set the plastic bags on the desk. “Don’ you want some breakfast first?”

“Go ahead and put the food out,” Brian said impatiently. “Just give me the cigarettes and I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Wait,” Rome intervened, holding the bag closed. Brian was showing too much skin between the V-neck edges of the halter dress, which would have been drop-dead sexy, if not for the bruising visible on his chest. That was good reason for him not to go out in public. Then there were the cuts on his face from the broken windshield, slight, but nonetheless present. Rome didn’t like the idea of anything thinking his partner beat on him. “You ain’t supposed to be up on yo’ feet an’ you know it.”

“I’ll only be on my feet a few minutes while I go downstairs and smoke--”

“I got you a Spanish omelet.”

Food had never held much charm for O'Conner; it did any more, though. He stopped cold and eyed the plastic bags. “A Spanish omelet?”

“Thought you’d like that.”

While Brian hesitated, Rome went on. “Anyway,” he pointedly searched Brian’s décolleté, “I can see all them bruises theh’ on yo’ ches’. Gonna make people wonda’ I don’ treat you right…You wanna smoke, go in the bathroom. Leas’ I can keep an eye on you.”

That seemed compromise enough for Brian. He took the pack Rome finally drew from one of the bags, along with the book of matches. Leaving his shades on the desk, Brian went into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

Though Rome was still resistant to the idea of Brian smoking for the sake of his health, he said nothing further. While he set out the meal on the table between the beds, he savored the aroma of burning tobacco, himself.

Within moments, Brian was coughing. He stepped out of the bathroom, waving the smoke off and eyeing the cigarette with offense. “What’d you do to it?”

“Huh?” Rome glanced up.

“Tastes awful.” Brian coughed a little more, tending towards gagging. He headed back into the bathroom. “I swear, this happened the last time I tried smoking.”

“What chyou talkin’ about, Brah?”

“It tasted like shit. Hm. The wrapping’s clean…”

“Maybe that kid don’t want you smokin’.”

“Mm.” Brian made a disparaging murmur and flushed the toilet. “Maybe just being pregnant makes it taste like that.”

“That pretty much what I said,” Rome muttered.

When Brian came out, he went for one of the chairs at the desk, but Rome stopped him.

“You supposed to be havin’ bed rest, not chair rest; sit on yo’ bed.”

Once the food container was in front of him, Brian fumbled to get the top open in haste, having forgotten all about the cigarette. He dug into his breakfast like a starved wolf.

Going to the coffeemaker, Rome found the decaff carafe untouched and the regular carafe three-quarters empty. He knew he’d only had one cup before he left the room. “You drink this?” He pointed at the nearly-empty pot.

“Is there enough for another cup?” Brian looked up, chewing. “I’ll fix more--” Once again, he started to rise.

“No, you just stay theh’.” Rome poured out the rest for himself in a fresh paper cup, then checked the decaff pot. Evidently Brian had turned the heating element off long enough ago for it to have cooled. “You been drinkin’ the caffeine shit.” Rome took a sip from his own cup, then carried the full pot of decaff to the bathroom to dump. Seeing the abandoned pack of cigarettes on the counter, he paused, instantly tempted to smoke one. “You shu’ you wanna drink that?”

“Decaff ain't for shit,” Brian responded from the bedroom.

It didn’t matter to Rome. It wasn’t his kid. He set the pot down and picked up the pack and book of matches. Not only did the tobacco smell and taste inviting, it brought back a whole lot of great memories between him and Brian. With a lit cigarette in his mouth, he came out and went straight back to the coffeemaker. “He’, I get you some mo’.” He brought the caffeine pot to the table and refilled O'Conner’s cup. Rome, after all, was getting the cigarette, so he may as well let his partner have what was left of the coffee.

“Thanks,” Brian said, watching Rome. “How does it taste to you?”

Rome took a moment to savor another draw when he straightened. “Nothin’ wrong wit’ it.”

“It’s just as well,” Brian concurred. “I shouldn’t be smoking anyways.”

“I shouldn’t, eitha’, now that I quit. But, what the hell? Might as well not let it go to waste,” Rome inferred, looking over Brian. As Rome took out his own breakfast serving, he was reminded of something else he’d brought Brian. He set out his tray of couple of eggs and toast, then drew out the last thing in the bag, a quart of fresh milk. “Oh, an’ I got this fo’--”

“Oh, man,” Brian enthused, snatching the carton from Rome. “I’ve been dying for this.” He ripped the cap off the bottle. “Thanks, bro’. This is really cool of you, gettin’ me all this stuff. Even if I can’t smoke the cigarettes.” He looked to the tip of Rome’s.

Naturally, there were no ashtrays, so Rome tapped the cigarette on the polystyrene lid of his tray.

After finishing more of his breakfast, O'Conner took what was left of his milk and leaned back against the headboard. He threw his skirt over the knee he raised. “You know,” he said, “I’m really starting to get into wearing these dresses.”

Startled, Rome stopped chewing. “Really?”

“Yeah. They’re more comfortable than pants.”

That was probably because Brian hadn’t yet transitioned into maternity pants, something he’d need to do soon.

“Say,” he brightened. “Why don’t we get ready and go to San Antonio to do some shopping? I’m gonna need more clothes. Nightgowns, too.”

Rome almost fell out of his chair that time. Those baby hormones were doing crazy things to O'Conner. Crazy as all hell, but in a good way. Enough to make him actually suggest they go clothes shopping for the first time in his life that Rome could recall. “I like the sound a that. We change the itinerary aroun’ some for Tuesday and start out goin’ to San Antone, instead.”

“No, now.”

That was a little too crazy. That and the cigarettes. “Docto’s say you gotta rest up. What I can do, is take ca’ a some laundry today. Wash yo’ dresses so you can wea’ ‘em when we go to San Antone an’ go shoppin’.”

“I’ll come with you.” He slid to the edge of the bed. “We can get it done in half the time--”

“You ain’ even finished yo’ breakfast.”

Cooperating, Brian stabbed another bite of his omelet and ate it. “’Kay, I’m done. I’ll clean this stuff up, then let’s get started on the laundry. It’s only an hour’s drive to San Antonio.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Rome laughed. “Iss gonna be a lot mo’ fun takin’ you dress-shoppin’ like this. But, the docto’ said you gotta have bed rest. That means keepin’ yo’ little ass on a bed fo’ a couple mo’ days.”

With a sigh, Brian put both sneakered feet up on the bed again, not covering his model-sexy legs that time and took another pull of milk. “All right. I’ll stay here in this boring-ass bed for the next couple of days.”

~~~

Following breakfast, they went about piecing the laundry together in complimentary bags the hotel supplied. Washing clothes was never one of Pearce’s favorite tasks, and he’d never done it in his life before he and Brian had moved into their own place together, and even then, it had taken him a year or something before he got around to doing it. That because O'Conner had shamed him into it. But, he learned, and he learned to do it the O'Conner way. That was, he had to do everything just so, in the washer and dryer in their rented house in Barstow. In Miami, they’d had to go to a laundromat to clean their clothes. The hotel they were staying at had a laundry facility, which was better than a laundromat.

He left Brian going over the maps again and calculating road expenses and other costs, like how much they should ask for the Challenger, even though they hadn’t paid a penny for it, other than upkeep. He’d taken off the unbuttoned shirt, making him way more sexy than Rome could stand to hang around without taking advantage.

To save some time, Rome filled a couple of washing machines, as there were enough empty ones at the time. When he got back upstairs, the maid was in the room and Brian was nowhere in sight. Neither was his shirt or his shades. He’d left a note scribbled on the hotel stationery, on Rome’s bed. It read, “I’ll be right back.” With a sigh, Rome shook his head, told the maid to finish the room, then went back downstairs to the breakfast area for another cup of real coffee.

With the laundry in the dryers, Rome went back upstairs, sure the maid had to be finished by then. In fact, he found her cart down the hall. He unlocked his door and this time, found O'Conner present, stocking the courtesy refrigerator from a bag, his skirt sweeping the floor every time he bent down. Which he shouldn’t have been doing at all. At least he was stocking it with milk and fruit juice.

“Oh, hey,” he said, on seeing Rome. “Laundry done yet? Need some--?“

“Come on, O'Conna’,” Rome drawled, pissed. “Why you keep doin’ this shit? You supposed ta be in bed. I coulda got that fo’ you.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. I’m goin’ right to bed, soon as we get the laun--”

“No, we ain’.” Rome let his anger show. “You goin’ to bed right now, if I have to whup yo’ ass to get you theh’.”

“You wanna try?” O'Conner seemed to have forgotten once again that he was expecting, and turned to take Rome on, laughing.

“I ain’t messin’ aroun’,” Rome muttered dangerously. “I don’t wanna have to deal wit’ it if you start havin’ contractions again. If you don’t eitha’, you shouldn’t even be gettin’ up to take a piss.”

“Okay, okay.” Brian held his hands up in surrender, but he was still chuckling in amusement, as he went back to his bed. “I’ll be good and stay in bed while you go get the laundry.” He unbuttoned and removed the shirt, and tossed it aside.

One quick survey of the room told Rome what he wanted to know. He saw the Skyline keys on the nightstand between the beds. Stepping in quickly, he snatched the keys up. “You be he’ when I come back o’ I put you ove’ my knee.”

~~~

It was a beautiful night. Somewhere in the Hollywood hills, they looked out over the glow of the city lights. They stood by the Charger, just back from a race. And Dom had said he’d never raced the Charger, but there they were. They leaned against the fender, engine ticking, drinking Coronas. From the pocket of a pair of black leather chaps, Dom pulled out the wad of cash he’d just won and showed it to Brian, laughing. “Look at all that. I told you we could do it.”

It was something like $20,000, Brian knew. Neither of them cared that some of the bills dropped to the dirt and gravel where they stood. Boosting himself up onto the fender, he drew Dom between his thighs and reached behind him to grab his bare ass. Fuck. It was firm, round, and curvaceous, just like Brian remembered. “I don’t give a fuck about no money…” Brian put his mouth to Dom’s and kissed him. Taking Dom’s jaw, Brian kissed him deeper.

Dom responded, kissing back, deeper and deeper. Grabbing the front of Brian’s T-shirt, Dom abruptly tugged him close. Then caught Brian’s tongue and sucked. Up against that soft, giving mouth, it was ecstatically titillating.

“Come on, O'Conner.” Dom tugged him by the hand into the Charger. It must have been modified from the last time Brian saw it; it had a back seat. A full, luxurious, black vinyl back seat. Through the back window, he could see half-full moon reflecting off the high-polish surface of the trunk. It was perfect. They climbed in back, Brian pressing Dominic into the corner. On his knees, Brian fumbled to undo his pants, but his shirt hung in the way. And he was stiff in his pants, making it awkward to ease himself out.

Dom was chuckling softly. “Not so fast. Slow down. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Yeah, he was gonna come in his fucking pants, Brian was thinking. He leaned forward for another kiss--to bite Dom’s mouth--anything in his desperation. Reaching down to Dom’s hips, Brian yanked them forward into position in preparation for penetration. Then slipped a hand to Dom’s lap to feel him up. He wore a thin, circe codpiece over his genitals. With a little fumbling, Brian freed those full, tight, taut testicles. His thick cock was erect, straining the fabric, aching for Brian to free it, too. Suddenly, he was hungry to taste, and take Dom deep, to the back of his throat. Later, later. Right then, Brian’s cock throbbed to penetrate, to sink in to the hilt.

“Oh, God, Brian…” Dom pawed at Brian’s jeans, trying to help get them down.

Loud cheering on the TV abruptly interrupted any further progress in the backseat of the Charger. Brian startled awake, not having realized he’d been sleeping. He looked around the room and through his eyelashes, saw Rome on the other bed, eating from a bag of cheese puffs, watching a baseball game.

“Shit…” Brian mumbled. He looked down himself, knowing he had an aching hard-on, and found he was on his back. If he had known he was going to fall asleep, he would have got on his side so his sleep erection wouldn’t be so evident. His skirt was covering his lap, but he could see the rise of his cock in his boxer briefs, beneath the drape of the knit rayon fabric.

There was no pretending that over the course of the last three or four months, Brian hadn’t had dreams about Toretto. It had always occurred more than he wanted. Dreaming of him at first scared Brian. He seldom ever dreamt about any of the cases he dealt with. It was only when something very extreme occurred with the suspect that that had happened. He’d had suspects try to assault him or lay sexual innuendo on him that had disturbed him and given him a few nightmares. Again, he hadn’t dreamt about those incidents more than once or twice. Toretto was different. He was the only one Brian had had more than a few dreams about. He used to wake up almost panicked from the lucidity of the them. And ever since they’d parted, having the dreams had become painful.

Why the hell was he asleep, anyway? Brian pulled himself a little higher on the pillows, and turned to check the clock, self-consciously sliding a knee up to hide his state. He was still throbbing. It was 4:24 p.m. He’d had at least two-and-a-half cups of caffeinated coffee; how the hell..?

“You doin’ a'ight?” Rome asked from the other bed. “You seem a little res’less ove’ theh’…”

“You switched the coffee,” Brian mumbled, annoyed.

“I should have. You shouldn’t be drinkin’ caffeine, an’ you know it.”

“I’ve been sleeping too much. I need it.”

“You sleepin’ mo’ ‘cos yo’ pregnant.” Rome dusted his orange-powdered fingers off on a napkin next to him. “Makes you ti’ed.”

Brian frowned, pissed that Rome was right and at having been awoken. Even pissed at having dreamt about Toretto because it brought back too many painful memories. Brian turned onto his back again to get to his other side, away from Rome. He may as well go back to sleep for whatever reason, and hopefully resume his dream.

In a few moments, Rome was behind Brian where he joined him on the bed, a leg over his hip. “You shu’ you don’ hurt o’ nothin’?”

He did, but not the way Rome meant. Brian went ahead and lied. “I’m fine.”

“You know you look so good lyin’ ove’ he’…”

That could work. Even though Brian knew they shouldn’t.

“How ‘bout if I just hode you?”

There was nothing Brian wanted more than to be held, but by the man he was missing badly. He shut his eyes. But, he didn’t recoil or shy from his boy. He loved Rome. He just happened to be in love with someone else.

~~~

Just as Brian thought he felt Dom kissing his shoulder and neck, he was once again stirred from another dream. He realized it was the Rome’s faint aroma he smelled along with the touch of his full lips and not Dom’s. It felt so good and comforting, Brian had no desire to stop Rome. Even though Brian felt Rome’s hand sliding up his side to his right breast where it continued past the cup of the halter dress and toyed gently with his nipple. Oh, hell, did that feel amazing. Each stroke made his cock jerk.

Turning onto his back once again, Brian could detect the coolness from the wet he was letting down in the knit fabric of his boxer briefs. He wanted them off. On his back, he drew Rome into a hungry kiss. This passionate mouthing went on, becoming deeper. Finally, Brian invited Rome atop him to continue it. Their hard, full erections crushed between them, and Brian raised his knees prompting their actions to go further.

Apparently suddenly thinking better, Rome hesitated and drew his mouth back from Brian’s a moment. Eyes hooded as he looked over Brian’s face, it was fairly clear Rome was fighting to hold off. “Wait, baby…I don’ wanna hurt you…”

“You’re not.” Brian reached to continue their kissing.

“No, seriously…We ain’ supposed to…”

“No more ‘supposed to’s,” Brian corrected. “I’m sick a that.” He kissed Rome again. “I’m fine, I told you.” Taking Rome’s hand, he led him to unfasten the neck of the halter dress and draw it down, baring both breasts. That did the trick and broke the floodgates; Rome went down on Brian’s nipples, sucking and mouthing with a new, starved passion. That was exactly what Brian wanted. Ecstasy elevated to a whole new level, he arched his back and pressed his hips into Rome’s. Damn, if Brian didn’t get off, he’d go insane.

Wildly, he yanked at Rome’s basketball jersey to strip him of it. Then pawed at the waistband of his pants to unfasten them. While Rome obliged, Brian struggled to get out of his boxer briefs. To keep his skirt from getting wet, he pulled it up in back. Only Pearce was taking so long to get his clothes off, Brian thrust a hand past his aching nuts for a handful of his own lube in preparation to do the honors, himself. He had plenty of juice, too.

Catching sight of Brian coating himself, Rome was quick to act. As was customary, he bolted for a towel from the bathroom, then dropped his clothes on the carpet and practically jumped to rejoin Brian on the bed. A hand over Brian’s, Rome tried to take over the task, readily providing nut-wrenching strokes. With both of them kneeling on the bed, facing each other, Rome further insinuated himself in place, mouthing Brian’s face, jaw, and neck, consummately. Not a problem; Brian tried to steer Rome up onto his lap. They could make love just as well like that. Rome changed the course quickly. He slid his hand low enough to part Brian’s slit with a finger to tempt him with a preview of what he could experience next.

“Oh,” Rome breathed, “You is wet…”

The sensation of Rome’s strong hand and finger offering sweet satisfaction convinced Brian; with a groan, he climbed onto his boy’s thick, powerful erection instead. Oh, fuck, did that hurt. Hurt so bad it was good. Then bracing his knees apart, Brian locked himself in place on Rome’s lap to crush his penis between them and fuck himself. Except the dress fell in the way.

While he struggled to get out of it, he felt Rome take his waist and work his hips for stimulation. And what stimulation. Once Brian had the dress off over his head, he attacked Rome. He practically threw Rome onto his back and dove onto him, sinking that glistening wet piece up himself once more. Now naked, Brian slid down so he’d gain all the friction he could against Rome. The new, slight rounding of his own abdomen against Rome’s hard, heaving one helped to crush Brian’s throbbing genitals, adding to his pleasure. In desperate desire, Brian rode up and down on Rome’s steeled cock. Rode with all the intensity, drive, and fervor as if Brian was the one performing the act. When he climaxed, he hit Rome with a warm, slippery mess between their bellies.

As they both recovered, Rome gathered Brian up to kiss him anew. “Oh, baby…” Rome panted, kissing Brian repeatedly, deeply. “Damn, I love it when you do me like that…” He kept kissing Brian.

Still breathing hard, Brian was pleased with that sentiment, being as he had no intention of stopping. He kissed Rome back in eager response. As Brian’s cock was now well-coated with his own come, it was nearly ready to take over the next round. With the towel, he quickly wiped any over-spill of his ejaculate to keep it from forming a puddle on the bed, then shifted course to grind their wet pieces together, suggestively bucking against Rome.

“Oh, Bry,” Rome whimpered. “Don’t do that…You don’ wanna do that…”

In fact in turn, Brian loved it when Rome whined like that. He was Roman, loaded with his alpha male pride. But the way Brian could wrap him around his little finger was something of a trophy. For everything it represented without belittling him in any way. Best of all, because Rome loved it, too. “You don’t want me to?” Brian teased.

“Oh, man…” In the submissive position Rome was in, and still winded from orgasm, his eyes looked especially exotic. But he lay still, ready for more.

It was then that Brian noticed the mild fluttering he’d felt but ignored going on inside him. As it was just fluttering, with no pain involved, he relaxed, knowing the baby was going to be fine.

~~~

Wednesday—August 23

They left Gonzales the next day. Brian said he was good, despite what the doctor had recommended and Rome had to admit, after the sex they had, his boy was in perfect working order. Too damn good, as always, leaving Rome in some discomfort for the drive to San Antone.

They took an out-of-the-way course, just the way Brian had mapped, so instead of taking only a little over an hour, it took them an hour-and-a-half. The whole trip consisted of mostly nothing but flat, rural plains on a long, two-lane road. This time Rome was glad to follow so he could keep an eye on O'Conner’s driving, in case he should get sleepy or sick again. He’d feel better when they had only one car to worry about, though. They wouldn’t get lost from each other and all Brian had to do if he needed a break was pull over and let Rome take over.

Once they hit San Antone, it was only to discover it wasn’t quite as grand as Rome had been expecting, but it was a hell of a lot better than Gonzales. They had to rely on the walkies to narrow down their plans as to where to go first, since they didn’t know the town. Over lunch, they asked locals the ideal places for clothes and car-shopping. They were told where the local mall and auto strip were.

Always more interested in cars than clothes, O'Conner picked the auto strip next. He’d chosen to wear shorts with the little top he’d worn in New Orleans and made himself up pretty. Not that it took much to accomplish that. Neither of them had thought that would make any difference, but the results were surprising. The salespeople at the car lots were way more receptive to Brian than Rome had ever seen. They offered more money on the Challenger and better prices on their inventory than expected. It was enough to give both Rome and Brian pause as to how to proceed with getting the best possible deal. Naturally, those salespeople who knew something about the Skyline tried to talk them into trading in that car, too, but it wasn’t going on the table for nothing.

Only because they hadn’t really found the car to buy, they took their offers scribbled on the backs of business cards, and because Brian wasn’t hungry yet, they went to the mall.

They’d each pocketed $500 before leaving Gonzales so they wouldn’t have to take it out in any parking lot where they might be seen counting out bills. While they were both allowed to treat themselves to whatever they wanted or needed, Rome found himself doing most of the looking for Brian again. And once again, Brian was thinking dull and practical. The dresses he looked at were plain shirt-dresses or simple A-lines that covered way too much. Whereas Rome was attracted to fly clothes for both of them. That included some fine high-heels for Brian that would show off his sexy feet, even though Brian didn’t really need any more height. But with his legs smooth, Rome couldn’t resist.

They’d been in one of the upscale department stores for a while when O'Conner fell quiet. The fact that he wasn’t complaining about Rome’s selections suggested that something was wrong. When Brian took a seat in the shoe department to wait for the clerk to bring out several pairs of luscious high heels and sandals, he leaned quietly forward, elbows on the arms of his chair and said nothing.

“What up, Bry?” Rome finally ventured, taking the seat next to him so they could talk quietly.

“Nothing,” he murmured.

“No, fo’ real. Som'm botherin’ you?”

“I don’t feel too good. But, I’m all right.” Brian kept his head down.

“What chyou mean?” Rome started to worry. “You feel sick again?”

“It’s just the smell.”

“What smell?” Rome looked around them, sniffing the air.

“Perfume, I think…” Brian sounded sick.

“Perfume?” Sure, Rome had detected various fragrances when they first came into the department store, but thought the scents enticing and evocative—like they were supposed to be. “That botherin’ you?”

“No, no. I’m okay.” On attempting to straighten up, Rome could see plainly that Brian didn’t look well. There was an obvious contrast.

“Uh-oh.” Once again, Rome looked around. “You gonna throw up?”

“I might.” Brian managed to chuckle weakly.

“Oh, baby, no. Whe’ yo’ pills? You need yo’ pills the docto’ give you.”

“I don’t got ‘em on me.”

“You should have ‘em on you. They in the ca’?” Rome thought of the long walk back to the parking lot.

“I didn’t know I’d need ‘em. And where am I gonna put them? In my pockets, I got my wallet, my keys, and my cell…” He trailed off, leaning forward again. “Ask the clerk where the bathroom is, man. I just hope I can make it there.”

“Come on.” Rome got up and helped Brian to his feet. “Lus’ go outside. I go back to the car an’ get the pills. It’ll be faster if you th’ow up outside than if we go look fo’ the bathroom. ” On the way to the exit, Rome saw a display case that gave him inspiration. “An’ we gonna get you a new han’bag so you can a’ways take yo’ pills wit’ chyou.”

That Brian had a knack for getting good parking spots was a blessing; Rome was back at the planter outside the mall entrance before Brian had to wait long. He looked miserable. Without any resistance, he took the bottle of water and swallowed down one of his pills, pocketing the vial. In about fifteen minutes, he perked up enough to brave going back inside the mall, just so long as they didn’t go into the department store with the perfume for the time being. As the pill worked it’s magic, Brian was eventually able to tolerate more and more odors through the walk in the mall. Which was good, ‘cos there was no avoiding all the different scents they came across. The only drawback was that it made him sleepy, but it also relaxed him and made him more and more agreeable with the whole shopping experience, something he’d never been much good at.

“You think,” Brian asked, after they left with some purchases from another store, “I could get a haircut?”

“What fo’?” Rome demanded, focused on finding the next place to shop. “You know how I feel about that a’eady. Remember how long yo’ hair was in junior high and high schoo’? Tha’s the way I like it best: long and beautiful.”

Brian mussed his curls sleepily. “Yeah, but it’s getting too bushy.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

That made Brian chuckle softly. At least he didn’t say anything more about getting his hair cut.

After buying a purse, some sexy shoes, and a few more clothes Rome liked, he spotted a hot lingerie store and that was that. There wouldn’t be any need to look anywhere else. That would include the nightgowns Brian had requested. While they were in there, Brian complained of hunger, but Rome knew he was probably a lot more embarrassed and uncomfortable about buying sexy things than hungry.

At the sight of several sheer, lacy, and uplift bras on display in the store, Rome stopped in his tracks. “Damn,” he murmured. Just looking at the things made him hard. Yeah, Brian’s tits were still subtle--not as ample as they were when he was a teenager-- but they’d get there.

Leaving O'Conner’s side, Rome went to check them out. Fuckin’ tight, made of satins, circe, tulle, silk, velvet, stretch lace… Brian sure was gonna look good in them. Mesmerized, Rome couldn’t tear himself away, even when he heard O'Conner hissing at him.

“Rome,” Brian was saying. “Come on, man. Let’s get going.”

“Huh?”

“I said, let’s go. Or I’ll go sit down and wait outside. You can buy me some nightgowns--whichever you like--and I’ll go wait outside.”

“What chyou talkin’ about? I hardly got started. Come he’.”

With a heave, Brian came closer, but kept a distance of a few feet. “I just wanna go sit down.”

Seizing Brian’s arm, Rome yanked him close. “Lus get you some a these. How ‘bout dis?” He held up a sheer and satin, red shelf-bra.

Shifting, Brian looked around them. “Man, I don’t got enough tit to put in that. I barely had this much when my mom started buying me bras in junior high.”

“An’ you grew into them real nice,” Rome said, still in a trance. “…Jus’ like you will these, ‘cos they only gonna get bigga’…”

“Rome.” Brian sounded threatening, but tired. “I’m gettin’ hungry, I told you. Can’t we go get something to eat first?”

“Soon as I buy you some a this nice stuff. Looka he’. Like some pan’ies, stockin’s, an’ all that. Look a this place: I’ss like heaven on Earth.”

“Gimme the rest of the packages.” Brian reached to take them from Rome. “You stay in here and get whatever you want, whatever size you think will fit, and I’ll go wait outside. I’ll go put this junk in my car and wait there.”

Rome was too distracted to seriously consider that Brian was resorting to his old tactics of getting out of shopping. “I don’ know what’ll fit you exackly…Maybe you betta’ stay and try ‘em on.” It wasn’t enough to tell the clerk they were for his boyfriend; Rome enjoyed showing Brian off every chance he got.

“You know what sizes I wear. Just make sure you get whatever’s smaller than an A-sized cup. I don’t barely got nothin’.”

“Don’ worry; you got plenty,” Rome assured him, looking Brian all over with lustful admiration.

It became obvious that Brian wasn’t kidding about being tired; he was irritable and cranky about looking at anything, let alone trying things on. When he finally agreed to, he was so long in getting done, Rome finally had to go in to the dressing room and hurry him up. He found Brian asleep on the bench, still dressed, leaning against the wall and mirror, bare legs together, hands in the lap of his shorts, hiding his sleep erection. As always, he was being modest.

As soon as Rome reached to rouse him, Brian knocked him away, immediately on guard and confused. Once he figured out who Rome was, Brian mumbled, “Can’t we just go? I’m really tired.”

Packages all loaded up in the cars, they went and had dinner. At a restaurant on the River Walk. Far from nauseated anymore, O'Conner was ready for it. And with a couple of cups of coffee in him, he was ready to get back on the road instead of checking into a decent hotel there in San Antonio and trying on one of the new negligees. Not just because of the negligees did Rome think that a bad idea. By then, Pearce knew how much that baby wore O'Conner out, and he hadn’t had his nap that afternoon.

Having brought his map, Brian set it partially folded out on the outdoor table of the Iron Cactus restaurant and laid out his argument as to how far they could get that evening. Though Rome was drinking his own after-dinner coffee, he was still leery of the idea and tried to talk Brian out of it for a while.

“Look at the hotels aroun’ here,” Pearce pointed out. “Wheh’ between he’ and El Paso we gonna find anything ain’ betta’ than a truck stop?”

“We’ll save money if we don’t stay here. We’ve already spent a fortune on clothes. We stay here at one of these expensive hotels, we’re gonna want to stay a couple of days and drop another few hundred.”

“You the one who wanted to go clothes shoppin’.”

“A couple more dresses was all I wanted. And of course, you were entitled to buy anything else you needed. But, then you went a little overboard on junk for me.”

“You said it was okay.”

“I didn’t exactly say that, but it’s all right. I wanted you to get what you wanted. What I think is, we ought a try and drive as much as we can tonight. We should be able to make it here to Uvalde.” O'Conner pointed to the map.

In the outdoor lighting on the terrace overlooking the San Antonio River, Rome had to turn the map to read the numbers Brian had written in. “That’s a hundred miles--about an hou’ -an’-a-half from he’. You really think you can drive that much right now?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“You was fallin’ asleep on yo’ feet at the mall, just tryin’ to get out to the pa’kin’ lot.”

“Yeah, but I ate and I had some coffee. I should be fine for just another hundred miles.” Brian looked for the waitress.

“What all in Uvalde?” Rome wanted to know. “It look pretty lame to me.” He tried to peer at the population estimate, but it was too dark. “I know they don’t got nothin’ like they got he’.”

“That’ll make it less expensive.” Brian took another drink from his coffee cup. “If we feel up to it by the time we get to Uvalde, maybe we can make it to the next city.” He checked his watch. “It’s nearly eight. It’s still earl--”

“The hell we will.” Rome was adamant. “The next city’s Rocksprings. That look worse than Uvalde. And another 45 miles away. You never make it. An’ I don’ wanna make it. Fo’ shu’ they’ll be no place to stay otha’ than a campgroun’ in Rocksprings.”

That made Brian chuckle, just as the waitress came up. “Can we have the check, please?” he asked her.

“Can I interest you in one of our tequila drinks yet?” she prompted him. Rome had had one before the coffee, but Brian hadn’t.

“No, no thanks,” he told her, shaking his head. “Just the check.”

“I can get you another,” she offered Rome.

“I wish,” Rome said. “Talk dis boy into stayin’ he’ in town oveh’ night an’ I have anotha’.”

She shifted hopeful eyes to Brian, but he declined again. “We gotta get goin’.”

“Aw,” she tried. “Y’all don’t want to leave San Antone already. How ‘bout our Texas Peach or the Saguaro Margarita?”

“I can’t.” He was insistent. “And my friend can’t either, ‘cos we’re leaving.” He gave Rome a no-nonsense look.

While the waitress left, Brian continued to Rome. “You’re getting spoiled out here, you know that?”

“You think so?” Reluctantly, Rome put his napkin down and pushed his chair away from the table. “I don’ see no harm in it, anyway.”

~~~

Despite the coffee, Pearce found himself getting bored and a little drowsy on the dark road leading out of San Antonio. To stay awake, he lit another cigarette. He’d smoked a couple on the way from Gonzales, too, out of boredom, but this time it was to stay awake. And being in the Challenger, away from O'Conner, he didn’t need to worry about tempting his friend or doing any second-hand smoke harm to the baby. Shit. Like that mattered to Rome. Well, it wasn’t right, anyway.

When it hadn’t quite been an hour, Rome’s walkie crackled. “Rome.”

Cigarette in mouth, he picked the receiver up, lazily. “Yeah, what is it, baby?”

“I…I’m getting sleepy. Traffic’s light, so we may still have another 25 minutes, but I don’t know if I can make it…”

“I tried to tell you.”

“That doesn’t do me any good now, wise-ass.”

“Don’t do none of us no good eitha’, now that we all the way to the middle a nowhe’.”

“At least talk to me or something, to keep me awake.”

“I know. I’m gettin’ kinda tired, myself. How ‘bout a little walkie-talkie sex?”

Brian chuckled, sounding sleepy. “I get desperate enough, I might take you up on that…except…”

“’Cept what?”

“You know, anyone with a CB, shortwave, or walkie of their own could pick us up.”

“Tha’s okay. So long as they don’t actually touch you, they could listen all they want.”

~~~

Uvalde was almost the tiny little truck stop Rome had been picturing. Only because O'Conner was having such a hard time staying awake did they stop at the first hotel in town, and it was everything Rome had expected; a nationwide chain budget hotel for business people. He left Brian in the Skyline parked up front while he went in and got them a room. When he came out, he found Brian fast asleep behind the wheel, hands in his lap again, in case anybody walked by the window, Rome supposed, but at 11:00 pm, that wasn’t very likely. When he knocked on the window, O'Conner jumped, then lowered the window. He peered up at Rome, eyes slanted from sleep.

“He’.” Rome handed Brian the key card, then added begrudgingly, “I get the luggage.” He was tired, too, and nobody had told Brian to get himself knocked up.

“No, I’m cool,” Brian mumbled, popping open his door. “I’ll help you get the stuff. Just hurry, ‘cos I really gotta pee.”

“Next time I say we stay somewhe’, you listen.”

“Yeah, right, okay.” Brian got out with the car keys and in two strides was at the trunk of the Skyline.

~~~

At least he was a good sport about it. They sort of shared a shower. Because Rome was busy with the luggage and stuff, Brian got into the shower first. But by leaving the razor packed and quickly soaping up, Rome finished his shower before O'Conner could fall asleep again. And sure enough, he was awake, dressed in one of the sexy little chemises, unpacking his overnight at the dresser. It was the royal purple one with the scalloped lace on the bra and a matching lace V tracing down to his navel. Tiny Swarovski crystals glittered on the bodice. The short, sheer body of the chemise draped down to the tops of his thighs, the hem scalloped lace like the upper edge of the bra. Underneath, he wore the matching, sheer, pouched, crotchless panties with Swarovski crystals on the thin straps on the hips. Even though they were herm panties, they strained on O'Conner’s generous package.

Goddamn, he was worth leaving San Antonio for hell, even. On seeing Rome in his towel, Brian readily left his unpacking and came to bed. He stepped right into Rome’s hold and started kissing with passion. He didn’t seem tired no more.

For a moment, Brian hesitated. “You’ve been smoking. I thought you said you weren’t gonna start again.”

“Yeah, well, betta’ that then fall asleep on the drive out he’. I tol’ you I was gettin’ pretty tired, ma’self.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” Brian said apologetically. “I’m the one who asked you to buy the cigarettes in the first place. Can you at least do me a favor and brush your teeth first?”

Rome was affronted. “All a sudden you don’t like the taste a tobacco? We both used ta smoke--”

“No, I like it. It just bothers me right now, you know.” He looked at Rome hopefully.

“A’ight,” Rome agreed. He started to saunter back to the bathroom where he’d left his overnight case, then stopped. “Jus’ don’ you fall asleep. I be right back.”

~~~

August 24--Thursday

Almost across the street from the hotel, they’d passed a car dealership. Brian had been practically falling asleep, but he always noticed cars and particularly when in the market for one. It was a Ford dealership, but that didn’t matter; they had used cars of all makes.

In the morning, after Rome had brought up their free breakfast from downstairs and was laying it out on the table, he stopped Brian from pulling on a pair of pants. “What chyou doin’? Wea’ one a them little skirts I got chyou. And one a them tight, little, knit, sleeveless tops.”

Still sleepy and probably somewhat hung-over from the medication, Brian looked around at his luggage, still mostly unpacked. “I don’t even know what all you bought me, yesterday.” In his boxer briefs, he went to pick up one of his bags.

“An’ wea’ some a them new panties I bought you, too, not them butch unda’wea’.”

“They’re just underwear,” Brian said, unruffled. Amidst his luggage, he found lots of unopened shopping bags that Pearce had evidently just brought in from the cars and dumped, too lazy and no doubt tired last night to put anything away. As he dug through the garments he found, he dropped them on the bed. He found the purse almost immediately. At his insistence, it was unisexual in nature. It didn’t take long to find the skirts Rome was referring to; unlike the dresses, they were mini. But at least most were full and all had stretchy waistbands. That part should be comfortable on his belly. Particularly when the baby was active and that seemed to be more and more the case. Once the baby had started stirring last night early on the way to Uvalde, he wouldn’t settle down. In fact, he became so active while he and Rome were making love last night, Brian thought Rome might complain.

“Don’t want ‘em showin’ if the wind picks up yo’ skirt,” Rome remarked.

That was disconcerting. Brian was holding one of the skirts against himself to judge how short it was. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear this thing then.” It did seem pretty short.

“You wanna get a good deal, don’t you? This a shu’ way. You saw how they acted aroun’ you in San Antonio. One look at them legs and they was ready to sell you a bran’ new Mercedes convertible fo’ a dolla’ down.”

It was a trick Brian’s mom used to use all the time. She probably still did. Show a lot of skin and get a lot of great offers. Brian always hated that his mom did that. She was pretty and had a great body and she always took advantage of those things. He’d never wanted to do things like that, even though Rome had a point. “I can’t…I can’t do that.” Brian put the skirt down. First, he knew he wasn’t anywhere as pretty as his mom. And even skanks could get away with it because it was essentially whoring.

Rome heaved. “You wanna spend all oua’ money a’eady?”

“We spent enough yesterday.”

“You said you wanned dresses. I got you some. I think everythin’ I bought was smart. It’ll pay fo’ itself, you play things right. You dress like I say and we sell the Challenga’ fo’ a good price an’ get a new ca’ fo’ nothin’.”

“But…I can’t do like my mom. I can’t flirt like she does,” Brian protested. “I just can’t.”

Coming to Brian, Rome took the skirt and held it up to Brian’s hips, looking over him. “You don’ gotta ack nothin’ like yo’ mom. You jus’ be yo’self. Tha’s all you need. What chyou done yesterday worked as good as anything yo’ mom eveh’ did.”

“I-I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” Rome said reassuringly. “You was yo’self. Tha’s all you needed. Believe me, baby.”

~~~

At Pearce’s insistence, Brian packed his new purse, a small, svelte, military tan, suede, messenger-style shoulder bag. As he did so, he was reminded of when he used to carry a purse as a teenager and into college. It seemed to actually make sense then and made him wonder why he’d ever stopped. Oh, yes; when he became a cop, in his effort to become as unhindered, self-sufficient, and Y as possible, he gave it up. Now, however, he remembered that aside from his medication, he could even hide his gun in it.

In dressing as Rome instructed, Brian felt naked. He was glad he’d shaved his legs again that morning in the shower, with so much revealed. The panties were just barely holding his sac, nearly riding up his slit. What Rome didn’t understand was that Brian got so wet all the time, he was going to soak the crotch of the panties in no time. But it was the kind of a thing one didn’t bring up unless one was dying for instant nookie. It was a good thing the air was hot, or the draft up the skirt would have been pretty extreme. For being titless, he was uncomfortable at how much what little he had jiggled under the clingy knit blouse. And he swore he couldn’t imagine any way the panties were going to be able to hold his junk.

He’d also made himself up while Rome had passed back and forth behind him getting ready, stroking his ass whenever he had the chance. Unlike his mom, Brian put on a minimal amount of makeup, which Rome assured him looked so fucking good he didn’t need any more. It was about that point that Rome started to dry hump him from behind, and that was enough to stop Brian’s ministrations with any more makeup.

And it was hot. Going to car lots in summer had always been a bitch in Barstow and felt pretty much the same in Texas. All the heat rose off the steel like kiln ovens, baking the skin right off a body when they walked by. Fortunately, it was morning, because the heat coming out of the cockpit of a sunbaked car by midafternoon when the doors were opened had to be what hell what must really feel like. Until one got so excited over the cars, the heat could be overlooked.

Tugging his skirt down on a regular basis, Brian managed a neat throw-back to the days when he used to wear high-heels as he prowled the car lot, looking for a good prospective. Both he and Rome admired the brand new Mustangs on the lot--even the ’95 V-8 GT. Perhaps they could consider it. But, no. It was the kind of car Verone’s guys would be on the alert for.

The salesclerk was masc. Right away, he started following way too closely, making Brian all the more self-conscious. Perhaps he thought Brian sherm. That was enough. The salesman kept smiling in a smarmy way and was right away receptive to making a generous deal. The way he kept trying to look down Brian’s shirt was unnerving enough. But Brian saw Pearce’s point. It worked like a fucking charm.

Then they were eventually drawn to the perfect vehicle: an 8-cylinder, manual transmission, 1993 F150 pickup.

Just the fact that it was 8-cylinder already meant it had a 200-plus horsepower engine. It was in near perfect condition, they discovered when they listened to it, with only 38,450 miles. He and Rome could easily add at least another 300 horsepower to it without too much expense. It was what Ford called “iris” in color and came equipped with a matching camper shell with heavily tinted windows. When the salesman opened the rear shell, a mauve carpeted interior was displayed. Like the rest of the truck, it was in damn good condition.

“Go ahead and climb on in,” the salesman encouraged.

Right off, Brian nearly did. Until he remembered his short skirt when the hot draft swirled up between his legs. He motioned for Rome to go ahead and inspect the bed. The way his off-white cargos tightened around his ass when he did so, and the muscles in his arms stood out was so enticing to Brian he got wetter. It was time to be grateful for the full skirt that would hopefully hide his unintentional erection. It was common knowledge that some sherms liked to wear tight skirts to deliberately show off their erections, like his mom did.

Once Rome drove it out on the highway with the salesman in the rear in the extended cab, they were convinced about buying it. It felt powerful and the engine and body sounded good and tight.

Of course they had to go through the purchase process. Only it didn’t last too long. The salesman already had the service department checking out the Challenger of course and within minutes of their return, had a decent offer on it. Rome gestured at Brian to cross his legs and show a little thigh. Just because Rome always said things about them didn’t mean anyone else would give a shit for Brian’s bony legs. Somehow that brought the price of the F150 even lower and that of the Challenger a little higher. Brian about fell off his chair. A short while later Rome pretended to accidentally nudge Brian’s purse to the floor, and subtly nod at him to pick it up; the difference between the two dropped to a mere $800. Then Brian realized the salesman was looking at his bare chest down his blouse. Shit. Brian quickly pulled his purse in front of his chest, saw a disapproving look from Rome and unwillingly lowered the purse to his side again.

By the time they left the dealer it was around 1:20 pm, Brian felt only minimally violated, but they had the keys and a copy of the deed to the truck straight out and were no longer burdened with the dead give-away orange Challenger. They went to have lunch and then immediately start buying parts for the F150. Knowing there were very few towns through most of their planned trip for the day, they were careful to inventory and stock the pickup and the Skyline with anything the vehicles may need. That meant opening the hood of the pickup in the parking lot of the parts store and assessing the condition of every hose, belt, filter--everything. Rather than lean over the engine compartment in the short skirt, however, Brian got into the bed of the pickup and changed into one of his older pairs of sports pants rather than anything Rome had bought him. They were loose-fitting and more comfortable in the inseam.

Then they grabbed something to eat and drink on the way out of Uvalde, Brian following this time. They didn’t know the engine or the transmission of the F150 yet, but they did the Skyline.

Once they got out of the small town, the landscape was fairly unchanging. Except for the thin cirrus clouds that had started to sweep in in the later afternoon. There weren’t even other cars on the road. Still, the rear end of the iris-colored F150 provided something different to admire apart from the waning late afternoon sunlight on the live oak and pecan trees, and the guajillo, blackbrush, and mesquite bushes on the roadside. Wherever radio stations did fade in and out, there was nothing but country music and religious programs to keep anyone company.

Once again, Brian found himself becoming drowsy, prompting him to fumble for the energy drinks he’d bought and placed conveniently on the right seat in anticipation of this. It helped some. The drink and the movement of the baby fussing inside.

Like Rome had figured, Rocksprings was a tiny town and not worth stopping in. Since it had only taken them a little over half an hour to get there, they didn’t have to. Instead, they drove straight through to Sonora, another 100 miles on. But those 100 miles were enough to wear on the fatigue Brian was struggling with, despite the energy drinks. He hadn’t slept enough the day before and it was catching up to him. They stopped there briefly for him to wake up, tank-up, and grab some food before they made another two-hour trip to push to Fort Stockton for a room.

At the gas station where they topped off, they made inquiries about places to eat in town. Because Brian wasn’t particularly hungry yet, the only place that sounded inviting was the local Dairy Queen; soft-serve ice cream would make a perfect snack.

Though the summer days were long, it was dark by the time they reached Fort Stockton by around 10:30 that evening. They’d deliberately made short stops, as often as they’d had to so Brian could relieve himself more times than Rome and to wake up. But it had wasted time. He’d already nearly fallen asleep at least three times and the batteries in their walkies were almost dead from frequent and lengthy conversations to stay awake. Once again, Brian would have been satisfied to stay at the nearest place as they arrived in town, but Rome had no desire to stay in another crappy hotel and it just so happened that the nearest hotel did happen to be a crappy one.

They stayed there anyway because Brian was just too tired to drive any further, though they considered the possibility of driving out of town, pulling off the road and sleeping in the rear of the pickup for a couple of hours. Except that Brian wanted the use of running water so bad he surprised himself by his nearly unreasonable insistence. And was even more surprised when Rome gave in.

~~~

August 25--Friday

The trip to El Paso went much the same as the rest of trip through Texas. They left Fort Stockton at little before 10:00 am and arrived not long after noon. Over a Tex-Mex lunch, Brian called Tej to ask him about taking care of the Skyline.

“Bul-let!” Tej enthused. “What up? How you doin’?”

“Great,” Brian replied over his lunch plate. “How ‘bout you?”

“Betta’, now that you called. Whe’ you at, baby doll?”

“Not in California yet, if that’s what you’re wonderin’.” Brian was relieved he’d made the phone call from inside the restaurant so he’d not have to put Tej on the speaker; had Rome heard that endearment, he would have to have been placated.

“No? Why not? You ain’ broke down or nothin’ ah’ you? Not in that Skyline a yo’s.”

“No,” Brian assured Tej. “Nothin’ like that. But I am calling about the Skyline.”

“Hm. What about it? You bringin’ it and yo’ sweet little ass back to me maybe? You know I miss the both a you.”

“Actually, just the car. I need to store it some place for a while and I can’t think of anybody else I’d trust more with it than you.”

“You serious?” Tej sounded impressed. “You comin’ back?”

“Not me.” This time Brian allowed himself to chuckle. “Just the car.”

“But, baby. You know you owe me.”

The fact that Tej was only half-kidding worried Brian a little about the plan of leaving the Skyline with him after all. Tej had started to flirt heavy with Brian early on in their friendship, something that he’d had to put a heavy constraint on when Rome had arrived. “When I get back to Miami, maybe I’ll do a little more racing,” Brian feigned misunderstanding. “Right now, though, it’s either sell it or put it in storage.”

“Sell it?” Tej’s excitement mounted. “You lookin’ to sell it? Hell, I’ll buy--”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to sell it; I’d rather put it in storage. I trust you to take care of it and keep it running for me until I can get back there. I’ll pay for the upkeep.”

“But, why?”

“It’d just be safer for us to put it in storage right now. I’ll tell you about it when I come back to pick it up. I’ll call you from the train station where I’m gonna ship it from and give you the details. That way you can be there waiting for it when it arrives. I don’t want anything happening to it. You know how valuable it is. Can you do that?”

“Well, yeah…A course, baby.” Tej sounded disappointed. “Anythin’ you say…I’ll be theh’ an’ pick it up fo’ you. A course…”

While Brian was flipping his phone shut, Rome immediately wanted to know, “What’d he say?”

“Oh. He said no problem,” Brian paraphrased. Then pushed the ever-present map for Rome to read on the small table. Always a small table. “After we leave here, we’ll only have one vehicle. So what do you say we go for broke, all the way to Arizona?”

Dropping his fork, Rome took the map and studied it a little harder. “To whe’ in Arizona? Fuckbutt, Arizona? You tell me we gonna drive to the next big city with a decent hotel an’ I say yo’ on.”

“Okay,” Brian laughed, confident they could make the drive if they just switched off.

“How long it take us to get to Flagstaff? Look like about seven-and-a-half to eight hours. We gonna be makin’ a lotta stops.” Rome sighed.

Brian eased the map back so he could point to the other high-lighted route he’d drawn. “Nah, I’m thinkin’ about Phoenix. That’s only about six-six-and-a-half hours’ drive.”

“Phoenix, huh? Wait a minute.” Rome turned the map back towards himself, bumping it into his Corona Brian had recommended. “You shu’ you wanna go all the way out to LA and not stop in Ba’stow on the way?”

“Actually, it turns out LA’s a mile closer, comin’ in from the east. That’s no big deal, but I’m thinkin’ I wanna go straight to LA.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Rome picked up his bottle for another drink. “Got some place in mind we gonna go to once we get to LA?”

“Uh, no,” Brian admitted, toying with what was left of his glass of lemonade. Damn, he was still thirsty. Well, if he went to the bathroom before they left--no, they’d still have to stop again too soon. “I think we’re gonna have to stay at a hotel for another while.”

“Another hotel?” Rome echoed. “I’m damn sick a hotels. You know tha’s gonna cost oua’ ass, too, afta’ we tried to save money on dis trip.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brian flinched. “But, it’s only going to be for a few days. 'Til we find an apartment. And I swear, LA’s not quite as expensive as Miami.”

“By how much less? Fifty cents? That supposed ta make me feel betta’?”

“No,” Brian laughed, “but I’m not talking West LA or Santa Monica. I mean the middle of LA. Where it’s not expensive like Miami expensive, you know? And it’ll only be temporary, 'til we both get situated.”

“You mean jobs. An’ it gonna take longa’ than a few days to find no apartment o’ jobs, an’ you know it. Then we pay fo’ that. How much it cost to buy a garage in LA, anyway?”

This wasn’t a point Brian had considered when he’d made the rather recent decision to go straight to LA. “I-I’m not sure. I guess when we get there, we can start looking into that…”

Grabbing a chip, Rome stirred it in the salsa. “How ‘bout we do dis, instead? We drive to Barstow, get situated theh’ whe’ i’ss a lot cheapa’, decompress, then start lookin’ aroun’ at prices a stuff? It take how long to drive out to LA from Barstow to look at garages?” He waited for Brian to answer.

“Around a coupla hours…” Brian admitted.

“See? Tha’s nothin’. We go stay wit’ Mom fo’ free a coupla’ weeks if we need.”

“I don’t want to put Vernetta out,” Brian protested weakly.

“‘Put out’? We know we drive anywhe’ nea’ Barstow, she kill us both if we don’ go see her. What chyou talkin’ ‘put out’?”

“It’s gonna take us longer than a couple of weeks,” Brian pointed out, knowing full well that Rome was right. “The first thing I’m going to do is go back to the Department and reapply.”

“An’ how long that gonna take? Don’ you gotta go take a bunch a tests an’ stuff befo’ they hia’ you back?”

“Yeah, so we shouldn’t stay at Vernetta’s all that time. I’m thinkin’--”

“Why they hia’ you back at all right now, since yo’ expectin’?” Rome gave Brian a meaningful look.

“It’d be against the law for them not to.”

“Doesn’t mean they wouldn’t want to, even if they got to. They prob’bly put you off fo’ weeks. ‘Til maybe you get out ta he’,” Rome gestured a large belly in front of him, “an’ you decide it best to wait 'til afta’ the baby comes. Bes’ thing we could do is go stay wit’ Mom fo’ all that time instead a payin’ rent.”

“Look, it’s gonna be hard no matter how we go about it, but first off, we’ll get paid better in LA.”

“And pay mo’ to live theh’.”

Brian ignored that. “We both get jobs out there right away. I’ll reapply at the Department, but in the meantime, I’ll get another job doin’ something else until I can get in.”

“I bet chyou get a lot mo’ excuses than jobs.”

“They can’t do that,” Brian pointed out with patience. “It’s against the law not to hire somebody on account of pregnancy. And anyways, I’m not going to necessarily tell them I am.”

“You ain’ gonn be able to hide yo’ titties in no time.”

“I won’t have to. They can think I’m on the pill. It’ll only be until I get into the Department again, anyways. Second, I’m thinkin’ about getting back into racing. That’ll make even more money. All that will be for living on while we’re looking for a garage. I’m sure we can’t make anywhere as much money at that in Barstow as we can in LA.”

“Racin’?” Rome was confused. “Racin’ what?”

Brian laughed quietly. “Street racing. I got into that when I lived in LA. Man, you could make a ton of money at it, good as your driving skills are.”

“Street racin’.” Rome seemed to be trying the term on for size. “I like the sound a that. But, ain’ that kind a dangerous fo’ somebody in yo’ condition?”

“Fuck no--well, only if you crash. I’m not gonna crash. Come on, Romeo, you know me better than that.”

“What was that?” Rome cocked an ear. Even if he knew he was being stroked, he liked it.

“Really,” Brian chuckled. “It’s gonna be great. You an’ me. We’ll clean up.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about it. I don’t know how you get into that.”

“Don’t worry. That’s how I made it cross-country to Miami. By street racing. That’s what I lived on. I couldn’t get no job. I was fine. I didn’t know I was pregnant, but I was fine. See, it’s gonna be all right.”

“Yo’ fo’gettin’ som'm,” Rome pointed out dryly. “Only got one ca’. An’ it’s a pickup.”

Another factor Brian hadn’t had time to take into consideration. After all, they were making a point not to be noticed by Verone’s people in getting the pickup. He thought. “Yeah, well I guess we gotta sell it and get us some tuner cars.”

“Shit, Bry, you wanna th’ow away all oua’ money and fuck the garage? It gonna cost that much to fix up any one ca’ ta race it.”

Once again, Rome was right. Brian downed the last of his lemonade and picked up his water glass. It was only half full, but he drank most of that, then lifted his fork. “If we sell the F150, we can easily make back what we put into it.”

“So? We didn’t put that much in it, the way we about stole it wit’ chyo’ little coochie-coochie ack’ you put on the salesdude. Only way to get ca’s that cheap is you eitha’ do another coochie-coochie ack’, o’ we go to my uncle’s garage, an’ you know it.”

“I did not,” Brian embarrassed, prodding at his rice. “I didn’t do anything. You were the one who told me to cross my legs.”

“Yeah, I know you didn’t. We’d a paid a lot mo’ fo’ that truck if you hadn’t. We go see Booka’, you don’t gotta do none a that. He give us a good deal on a coupla ca’s an’ parts, in exchange fo’ a little work, is all, an ‘cos I’m blood an’ you practically is. You know that.”

“Yeah, but…” Rome was right in everything he was saying. It made a whole lot more sense. The fact that Rome was showing more common sense, especially money-wise, than Brian was noteworthy. But he wanted to go to LA. Sure, he could go back to work at the PD in Barstow and transfer to LA again, but more than anything, Brian wanted to go live in Echo Park. It was stupid and pointless--maybe even psychotic--but he wanted to. Even though he knew he’d never see Dominic Toretto again, he still wanted to be close to where his baby’s father once lived. He couldn’t ever imagine changing his mind about that, even if he never told anyone else. “That would take weeks, and the sooner we get on the streets in LA and race, the better.”

A waiter came by to refill their water glasses. Brian jumped on his, incidentally prompting the waiter to smile and top the glass up once more before leaving.

When they were alone again, Rome went on. “Them’s weeks we’d be payin’ rent an’ utilities, an’ all that, on top a ca parts, while we work all day, leavin’ us no time to put these ca’s togetha’. We go to Barstow, things be a lot easia’ on us. We jus’ pay Mom fo’ food, an’ things, and that’ll be a lot cheapa’. You know she won’t take no rent from us.”

“We could do it. We could still do it. I tell you what: If it takes too much money and too much time, we’ll go to Barstow for a while, anyways. I sure don’t want to have to go runnin’ back home like a coupla kids. We should be able to do this oursel--”

“An’ we could. If we weren’t tryin’ to save no money. We could live on what we got an’ fix up a coupla ca’s, get jobs, an’ do all that. ‘Cept the garage. If we wanna do it right, we ought a get the garage an’ go into business for oua’selves, instead workin’ fo’ the man the rest a oua’ lives.”

“Come on, Rome. We can do this.” Brian tried, studying Rome earnestly. Something else suddenly occurred to Brian. Drawing his chair up closer to the table, he leaned across it to talk quieter. “We go back to Barstow, chances are Kitty’ll find out I’m there.”

“Why? None a my family ain’ gonna tell nobody.”

“No, they won’t. But somehow my mom will find out. Only about everybody in town knows her. She’ll find out. Then it’ll only be a matter of time before she finds out I’m knocked up.” That was a damn good argument that Rome couldn’t possibly find a way past.

After taking a moment to think, Rome nodded and finished off his beer. Just as quietly, he murmured, “I see yo’ point. Okay then, I guess we go to LA.”

~~~

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to hear from you. Please visit my writing blog at: http://exlibrisxscribe.tumblr.com/


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